Girl in the Painting
by paynesgrey
Summary: Nathan hires Isaac keep Claire close and bring out a missing Peter. As Claire and Isaac work together, Claire learns of people with special abilities, and of an artist with a delicate, troubled soul. ClaireIsaac. Underage themes. AU from Distractions.
1. Chapter 1

AN: Dear Evil, Clever, and Smexy Tim Kring: Try not to make this ship related for me, m'kay?

Just a warning for those of you who get scorpions in your pants about slight incest, I promise to keep it light if non-existent. This is an Isaac/Claire pairing, after all. Warning for underage themes. No flames please!

Spoilers: This takes place after "Distractions" and goes on its own from there.

* * *

Girl in the Painting

Chapter One

Isaac Mendez cracked open his eyes, squinting through blurry vision as morning sunlight blanketed his studio. Through his exhausted haze, he heard someone banging on his front door. Popping a few tense joints in his neck, he reluctantly rose from his futon and sauntered to the door. Whoever was bothering him so early in the morning was going to get a nose-full of his rancid, stout-laced breath, and he hoped it would drive the intruder away.

His door creaked as he opened it, and he squinted as sunlight burned at his tired eyes. Looking up, he saw Nathan Petrelli staring down at him through sunglasses and a clenched jaw.

"Whoa…" Isaac yawned. "Mr. Petrelli, to what do I owe this honor?"

Nathan's stone face made no movement, and he continued to eye Isaac with a tight expression. Isaac was sure Mr. Petrelli felt he was taking a great risk with associating with a former drug addict and eccentric painter; however, destiny couldn't be denied, and the two odd strangers had been brought together through otherworldly circumstances.

"I need you to do something for me, Mr. Mendez," Nathan said in almost a hiss. Nathan was stationary yet expectant as Isaac blocked the entrance. "Can I come in?"

Isaac said nothing and ushered him in mockingly with a formal gesture. "Can I get you anything to drink, Mr. Petrelli? Coffee, beer, Kool-Aid… um… coffee?" Isaac asked, giving him a lazy smile. Nathan didn't seem to appreciate the humor.

"No, thank you. I'll make this quick." Nathan smoothed down his jacket, surely an automatic gesture since nothing was wrinkled about him. Clearly, today Nathan was all about business. "Something has come up that does not fair well for my upcoming election."

Isaac nodded. "I'm sorry to hear that."

Nathan pursed his lips and continued, slighting Isaac's kindness. "The truth is… this problem is not only bad for my reputation, but it also is very close to the… _other_ problem we've been having."

"Peter?" Isaac said automatically. Nathan sighed.

"Not directly, but he's a part of it, and so are you." Nathan licked his lips and took in a heavy draught of breath. Certainly, the issue was taxing on his anxiety. "There's another connection to the cheerleader in your paintings, Mr. Mendez." And at this point, Nathan was losing his usual cool, and he become increasingly upset. "It's been heavily unforeseen, but the little girl that Peter saved in Texas long ago… the reason for this whole holy crusade, just happens to be my long lost daughter… someone who I thought was dead fifteen years ago."

Isaac's eyes widened, and he put a hand over his mouth. There was more to his surprise than Nathan even knew about, but he for now he couldn't say.

'Bennet's daughter,' Isaac thought to himself, and he wondered if Bennet even knew this. Isaac groaned inside. 'This was bad,' he thought, and automatically his loyalties were put on a strain. Of course he was grateful for Bennet helping him get through his addiction, and he was more than willing to continue to keep tabs on Peter for him… but his daughter… now that she was in the equation again, things were getting more complex for him.

"What does this girl have to do with me?" Isaac asked after a pregnant pause.

Nathan looked at him almost desperately. "You painted her; you must know something about her…" Nathan saw Isaac shake his head.

"I haven't painted her since that incident… I mean, I could try."

"Please see if you can, but that's not what I came here to ask you," Nathan responded. There was a hard look in his eye, full of fear and anger for change. "She's here in New York with her mom. I set them up here in an apartment, so long as they keep quiet and near me so I can keep an eye on them. Claire has left her adoptive family… and according to her mother, her adoptive father has been lying to her all this time."

Isaac inwardly squirmed, but he continued to listen.

"Claire's adamant to learn more about me, and I'm also curious about her… and her powers. Plus…" Nathan paused and turned around to stare at one of Isaac's paintings of his brother walking away from Isaac embracing Simone. Nathan frowned. "Peter's missing, and I have no clues of where to find him. Peter's whole life changed because of this girl. He dropped everything just so he could be a hero to her. I'm hoping that if she comes to New York, and if he sees her, he'll turn up again."

Isaac laughed. "How is a missing Peter going to run into your daughter in this large city? It's impossible."

Nathan turned to him, and underneath that cold exterior Isaac could see a calm, calculated man.

"Because my brother's not actually missing, Mr. Mendez; he's hiding from me and his family _and_ his life, and I know that he'll be back. He'll be back to see Simone, to see if you've painted anything new, and he'll be back because he loves his family. And when he finds out the cheerleader is here, I know that he'll come home."

Isaac crossed his arms and gave him a challenging stare. "So what am _I_ supposed to do? Huh? I don't get where this concerns me."

"I need you to meet her and tell her what's going on. She wants to help be a hero, but I don't want her getting too involved with that. I do want her to trust me though, something she lost with her other father. I want to keep her close, not just because she's family, but because she could bring Peter back." Nathan reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out his wallet. He handed Isaac a small bundle of one hundred dollar bills. "I'll pay you, of course, and this is all in addition to trying to paint her again." Nathan cracked a wry smile. "It would be beneficial if you painted something that indicated that she is _not_ my daughter, and this whole thing could be resolved. But more than anything, I'm concerned about finding Peter."

Isaac nodded. He was okay with this not just because of the money, but that keeping tabs on Bennet's run-away daughter seemed like a good idea as well. It was an invaluable secret that he was entrusted with watching Nathan's daughter, and he was sure the man didn't want him revealing such things to the public.

"I take it you want this on the down-low, Mr. Petrelli?" Isaac asked. Nathan obviously had no idea of Isaac's ties to Mr. Bennet.

Nathan nodded. "Unconditionally. This must remain a secret."

"So how can you trust me?" Isaac asked, and Nathan flinched. Isaac was sure Nathan had some doubts. Then, Nathan seemed to relax, and he looked at the painter gratefully. He cracked a smile.

"Because… you've helped my brother before and you understand him," Nathan said, and Isaac quickly felt slightly guilty for working for Mr. Bennet – not that he had done anything evil for him, _yet_. Keeping an eye on his daughter could give him the leverage he needed in case he needed to get out of Bennet's organization, if that day ever came.

Isaac smiled in return to Nathan, and then he scratched the back of his head. "I still don't know what I'm going to do with her. You just want me to fill her in on everything, right?"

Nathan smiled mischievously and looked at the sign outside of Isaac's studio that read, "Assistant Needed." Isaac's face paled as Nathan grabbed the sign. "Consider her hired for the position. If you need more funds to keep her, you just let me know."

Isaac was speechless, and he sure as hell wasn't expecting to hire an assistant who was a just a teenager. Nathan smiled as he gaped at him, and he turned to leave.

"See that you be a little flexible with her hours. I have hired a private tutor for her to finish off this school year, and then she's going to enroll in a girl's academy in the fall. You'll have her all to yourself this summer." Isaac felt his stomach recoil as Nathan flashed him a 'do-it-or-else' smile, and then pointed a finger at him. "Just remember to keep her close, and if she tries anything to make this public, stop her and let me know. I'll have her brought here to start working tomorrow."

"So how do we keep this fact that she's your daughter secret again?" Isaac looked at him skeptically.

Nathan waved a hand in the air and said, "I don't care. Make something up. Say she's come to New York to help us along with her mother. This isn't just a family issue… it's _that_ other issue as well."

Isaac smirked as Nathan left, quite amused that Nathan still couldn't say that he had super abilities. Slowly, Nathan was admitting to the importance of these abilities and that others were like him, especially now since he had a daughter with them too.

Isaac sighed and looked over at his messy studio. There was a reason he needed an assistant. Simone was, of course, against his idea to hire someone and offered to help him out. As much as he wanted an excuse to be closer to her, he still felt really awkward about their relationship. She hadn't officially left Peter yet or made any indication that she would ever leave him. Now that he was missing, Simone was even more concerned about finding him, and Isaac knew her deep feelings for him weren't just going to disappear.

Isaac frowned. He had to admit Peter was an amazing person. Many people cared about him, and he was highly noble, empathic and good-natured. He had an abounding zeal to help people and do the right thing.

But Peter's power was _too _amazing for his own good, and Isaac was sure he would be the one to destroy the city. Helping Mr. Bennet and finding Peter to prevent this was imperative, and now Nathan wanted his help finding him as well.

Isaac shook his head, trying to drive the thoughts away before they became too jumbled in his brain. He sat on his stool and stared at a ready-made canvas. He sighed again, closing his eyes and then focusing his energy. Right before he always did this, he remembered Hiro's guidance to concentrate and to believe in his ability. And as long as one person believed in him, it was enough for Isaac.

Opaque white haze consumed his eyes, and he picked up a brush. Erratically, he mixed color with media and coarsely jabbed the brush onto the painting. Strokes became fierce, and soon images grabbed from the future were taking life.

And when the power dispelled, Isaac coughed lightly and blinked his eyes several times before coming to. Frantically, he looked to the splashes of media and color exploding over his clothes and palette. When he lifted his gaze, his eyes widened at the sight of yet another prophetic painting.

He gasped and felt his insides go cold and then warm to the sight of it. He wondered, and if Nathan Petrelli hadn't shown up at his doorstep that morning, would he still have painted the same thing?

To Be Continued…

AN: How do you like it so far? This plot bunny was really doing a number on me and it had to be written. I don't know how long it will be, 10 chapters or so. My epic muse is on vacation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Girl in the Painting**

Chapter Two

Claire frowned as she looked out the car window, the cool breeze grazing her face. She sighed, exhausted by the events from hours ago that replayed over and over in her mind.

"They weren't my real parents, were they? You lied about it, didn't you?" Claire had yelled at her 'foster' dad. He tried to get a word in edgewise, but she wouldn't let him. He tried to hug her, but she backed way. She didn't want him to touch her – not ever again. With resolve she said, "I found my real mother, and she's taking me to meet my real father."

"Claire-bear…"

"No! Don't call me that anymore!" She was crying now. She had lost so much. She had _trusted_ so much. Tears ran down her cheeks, and she bit her lip. She gave the man who raised her a pitying stare. "I don't know who you are anymore. I don't _know_ you at all."

She looked to her mom and Lyle, and she sniffled. She gave them a pleading look. "I'm sorry. Please understand. I can't stay here. Not after all he's done to me… or to you."

She felt so torn between them, but Claire knew she had to go with Meredith. She had to go to New York to find her father … and to find out the truth about her powers. She couldn't live this lie anymore. And as much as she felt sorry for her mother and her brother Lyle, especially after all her father had put her through, she didn't belong here.

Not anymore.

The driver outside honked the horn. Claire turned around, and she looked back at her parents. Her father was clutching her mother tightly as she cried. Her brother looked at her with confusion. Claire wondered if they had any inkling on what was going on. How much of their memories did he erase? How much of their life did he take away from them?

She gave her dad one last sour look. "I'm going, and don't try to stop me. My things have already been packed in the U-Haul, and my real mom and I are leaving."

Claire looked to the ground sadly, and she clutched her backpack tightly. She glanced around her home one more time, the place where she grew up. 'It's not my home anymore,' Claire thought, and she felt sadness swell up in her stomach. 'I don't know if I can ever come back here.'

"Goodbye," she said looking away. She didn't dash out the door like she wanted to; instead, she walked out slowly and didn't look back.

There was no way her father could stop her. Not if this was her very own decision. Legally, Meredith could have a say in where Claire lived, and if they took her to court, Claire would undoubtedly go with Meredith.

She sighed as she looked at Meredith in the car, giving her a sad smile. 'It's time I learned everything, and lived in truth… not in a lie."

And she hopped into the car next to Meredith, a woman she hardly knew, but a mother she'd always been searching for.

--

"Claire?" Her mother drew her out of her reverie. Claire blinked and looked to her side. Meredith glanced over at her in concern. "Are you alright, sugar?"

Claire smiled, but her mother didn't seem convinced. She sighed. "Someday, my little girl's smile is going to be real and not so sad."

"I'm sorry, Meredith… I don't know how can be happy. I just left my family – willingly," Claire said.

"It's okay sweetie. It's a horrible time, but someday you'll be happy again." Meredith paused, and she pouted as Claire still didn't cheer up. She added, "I just hope I can be a good mom for you. I haven't had much practice."

Claire smiled at her. "Don't worry. I'm glad just to find you, Meredith."

"Please, honey, call me Mom." Meredith looked at her with pleading eyes.

"Okay… Mom," Claire said hesitantly with another small smile.

"That's alright. You'll get used to it," she replied cheerfully. "If you say it enough, it'll start to fit."

Claire looked ahead at the Texas highway that stretched on forever. The sun began to set on the desert, and the wind became colder. Claire rolled her window up, but Meredith kept hers down. Claire shivered, but her mother didn't seem to notice that she was cold.

Meredith sighed, rubbing her hand over the steering wheel. "I always wanted a 67 Mustang. It was nice of your daddy to give me one for the drive up."

"Oh? My real dad gave this to you? Did you ask him for it?" Claire asked, curious to why she would ask for such a vintage car. It must have been expensive.

"Why sure, honey. My trailer heap wasn't going to last on the road, and your daddy was very anxious for us to come to New York. I told him get me a 67 Mustang and we'd be up there in a flash." She giggled. "Ah, I miss how persuasive men can be."

Claire didn't say anything, and she felt her mother was acting somewhat silly. She pouted and slumped in her seat, looking out her window. 'Am I going to be like that someday?' She shuddered. Meredith was a nice lady, but so far, Claire felt she was kind of a bimbo. She hoped her opinion would change.

--

After a few days staying in cheap hotels and driving long boring distances, Claire and Meredith finally made it to New York.

Claire had never been to New York, so when they arrived to their tiny apartment on the edge Queens, she felt nervous about all the people and scrunched and staked buildings. The air was rancid, smelling of exhaust and sewage. It had just rained that morning, so the streets appeared wet with filth. Cars buzzed down the roads, and for every minute she could hear impatient drivers honking their horns madly.

Meredith seemed cheerful as ever. She threw out her hands and said, "Hello, New York!" Someone down the street yelled at her to shut up, and she started laughing. She put an arm around a stunned Claire. "Ah, it's been so long since I've been here. Isn't this a great city?"

She looked expectantly to Claire. "I don't know yet," Claire replied, smiling sheepishly. "It seems kind of gross here… and noisy."

"Oh, you'll get used to it. Here, let's start unpacking! We actually got a flat on the bottom floor, can you believe that? I'd hate to have to drag all my furniture up a flight of stairs." She giggled again, and then began unlocking the key to the U-Haul. "We'll take turns dragging stuff in. You get stuff ready, and then I'll take them in." She surveyed the neighborhood and sighed. "We'll probably have to keep an eye on our stuff as we move in."

"Okay," Claire said, and after Meredith opened the door on the U-Haul, she began organizing stuff to be taken in. Suddenly, Meredith's cell phone rang, and she gave Claire a strange look.

"I'll be right back, honey; it's an important call." Claire nodded, curious to whom the caller was.

She wondered if it could be her real dad.

--

"Hey," Meredith said in a low voice. "We're here, and we're unpacking now."

"I want you to take Claire somewhere after you two get unpacked. I found Claire a job until I hire the private tutor."

"Okay. Where is this place? And why do you want her to go there?" she asked, and the caller sighed heavily into the phone.

"Just don't ask too many questions. Take her tomorrow to this address. Do you have a pen?"

"Yes," Meredith answered, her jubilation disappearing as her caller became terse with her. Meredith grabbed a pen and notepad from her jacket pocket and started to write.

"Take her to 215 Reed St. #7 in New York. That is a studio of an artist named Isaac Mendez. He's hiring her to be his assistant."

"But why?" she asked. She was confused to why this was so important to him. Why an artist?

"If Claire wants to know more about her powers, she needs to go here and meet the artist. This artist can paint the future."

Meredith gasped, and she didn't respond right way. Finally he said, "He's painted her before, and she's a lot more involved in our lives than you may think."

Meredith inhaled a draught of breath, and said, "I understand. I'll do it."

"Good," Nathan said. "9 o'clock sharp in the morning. Remember, Meredith." Then, he hung up. Meredith sighed, and then rubbed her arms. She had forgotten how cold New York was going to get in the end of October. She walked back, and she started to help her daughter move into their new home.

--

"Nathan, this is Isaac."

"Ah, just the man I wanted to talk to," Nathan said, answering his secure phone. Not even Peter, his mom, or Heidi knew about this phone. It was just some cheap pay-as-you-go phone, and it came in handy with dealing with matters when he didn't want to be traced.

"What is it?" Isaac queried, holding his news until Nathan shared his first.

"Claire's here in New York with her mom. They moved over to Queens. Claire's coming tomorrow at nine."

"Ah," Isaac said, biting on his lip. He still really didn't want to take this girl in, but Nathan was paying him, and he did want a chance to keep an eye on Bennet's girl. Besides, he wanted to meet the girl who had always been in his paintings. "Fine. I'll be ready for her."

"Great. Now why did you call me again, Isaac?" Nathan asked, remembering that Isaac had called him first.

"Well, since you've been here, I've been painting nothing but Claire. And her mom, and you too." Isaac paused.

Nathan anxiously interrupted him. "And Peter?"

Isaac inhaled a deep breath. "Yeah, I've painted Claire with Peter, most likely meeting him soon. In the painting, they're meeting in Central Park."

"Great!" Nathan said. "There's hope yet to find my brother. Did you paint anything else?"

Isaac hesitated for a moment, and then he replied. "No… no, that's it so far."

"Well, good work. Keep me posted. This phone is about to run out of minutes, so I'll let you know when I get a new number. And if you paint anymore of Peter, I'll need all the clues I can get." Nathan seemed overjoyed, and before hanging up, he added, "This is good news. It at least confirms he's still in New York."

"Yeah," Isaac said, and Nathan said goodbye. Isaac exhaled heavily, and threw the phone down on the receiver. He started nervously biting a loose hang nail on his thumb.

Sauntering over to his easel, he stared intensely at one of the paintings he did of Claire.

"There was no way I could tell Nathan Petrelli about _this_ painting," he said aloud. He traced a finger slowly down the flesh toned strokes and warm yellow tertiary hues. The subject gazed at him innocently, scared to be revealed but comfortable in a candlelit setting. Out of the window of indoor tranquility, the city raged in fire – fire that resonated with the heady look in her eyes.

Shaking his head, he wrapped up the painting in a raw piece of canvas, and tucked it away behind his bed, a hiding place where he hoped no one would look.

_No one_ should see this painting – not Simone, not Claire and _definitely_ not Nathan Petrelli. And he would hide it, tucking it away until he knew what it really meant.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Spoilers for Episode 01x14, "Distractions" and then it goes AU from there. Warning for some underage themes in the future.

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Girl in the Painting

Chapter Three

_He never dreamed of anything like this. _

_Soft, golden tresses swept across his face. He heard an echoing giggle and felt feather-light kisses trail down his chest. The soft, alluring scent of a young woman filtered into his nose, warming his blood. She hovered above him, looking at him with mischievous eyes._

"_Don't tell my dad, okay?"_

--

Isaac woke up with a start. Eyes wide, he frantically looked around his empty studio as the dream melted away from his mind. His body was moist from sweat, and he licked his chapped morning lips.

Rubbing his eyes, he looked to the door as he heard someone begin to turn the lock. As he rose from his futon, Simone had let herself inside.

"Good morning," she said, eyeing him hard. "Sleep well?" She was carrying her large steel briefcase, ready to pick up more of his paintings.

"No, I slept terribly," Isaac answered as-a-matter-of-factly. The vision of the underage blonde from his dream flashed in front of his mind. He shuddered, feeling somewhat dirty yet allured by the forbidden carnal moment.

"Were you up painting all last night?" Simone asked with sympathy. She noticed his attention was elsewhere, and she cocked her head at him. "You shouldn't work so hard, Isaac."

Isaac shook his head. "It's not that. Now that I can use my powers at will, the information has been overwhelming."

Simone nodded. "Is there anyway you can regulate it? Tone it down?"

Isaac rubbed his chin. "I don't think I can, Simone. I feel I have to help, and if it comes to me, whether slowly or at full force, I have to take it. I can't just ignore things, not if they're going to help us figure out more clues about the bomb."

Simone didn't say anything, and Isaac noticed she got a faraway look in her eyes. He bit his lip. She was probably thinking of Peter again. He saw her glance at his paintings, propped up against easels and stools. One painting caught her attention.

"Is that Peter?" Simone asked, rushing to the painting. Isaac felt his heart tighten. It was obvious that she was very much in love with Peter, even though he was still missing.

Isaac turned away from her expression and looked at the painting. He sighed. "Yeah, that's him. He's still in New York somewhere. It looks like he's partially invisible."

"Invisible?" Simone asked curiously. She looked at Isaac for answers, and he bit on a fingernail, looking away.

"Yeah, I think he might have met someone with invisible powers, but I'm not sure."

Simone looked relieved. She smiled jubilantly. "Good. That mean he's still in the city. We can still find him."

--

Meredith had hailed a cab for Claire to drive to Isaac's address. She had given Claire plenty of money for fare and food, and she reluctantly declined accompanying her to Isaac's studio.

"I better keep unpacking," she said, almost nervously, and then she kindly shoved Claire on her way out of the apartment. Claire frowned, feeling like there was much more to her mother than she saw on the surface, and the way she sometimes acted indicated she was hiding things.

She pouted for a moment in the cab, and then she turned her attention to the scenery out the window. She was thankful her cabbie wasn't chatty, enjoying the New York scenery as it passed by. It was an industrial paradise, unfeeling and busy on the surface, but glimmering with ghostly embers in the shadows.

Her mind wandered. Her father had grown up here, and yet like this city, she knew nothing about him. He seemed cold as well, simmering with feelings he was not taught to express. Peter was from New York too, yet he seemed so different. He still felt like New York – the kind of New York that visitors dreamed it to be. He was otherworldly, offering people hope.

She only wondered what part of New York this Isaac person was going to represent. She wondered if he was going to tolerate her at all. Claire sighed, feeling even more alone than ever before.

It seemed all the people she had met on her quest to find her real parents really didn't want her at all.

She sniffled, holding back the tears as the cab came to a stop.

"This is the place," the cabbie said, just as unfeeling and stiff as the gray New York air. He told her a ridiculous fare, and she paid it, just happy to get out of the suffocating car.

When Claire looked up at the building in front of her, she realized that Isaac lived on one of the higher floors. Making her way into the building, she walked up the stairs, coming to the front of his door. The studio seemed very open, most likely for lighting and ventilation. She looked inside curiously, and before she knocked, she heard two people arguing.

"Damn it, Simone! Why don't you listen to me? I told you how I feel about you, and you say you feel nothing?"

"And I told you Isaac, we're done and we can't go back. You know I'm with Peter now, and it's not going to change."

"Peter is dangerous! He's absorbed so much power he's going to explode. And when we find him, we have to stop him. He'll destroy the whole city and kill millions!"

Claire's eyes widened and she felt her heart skip a beat. Could it be a coincidence that they're talking about the same Peter…? No! It couldn't be… New York was a big town with millions of men named Peter.

But she wondered just how many of them could absorb power? She continued to listen to their conversation; sure they hadn't realized her presence yet.

"Look, Isaac. I appreciate that you're trying to find Peter, but if you or anyone harms him, you'll have to deal with me." Simone's voice was hard as steel. "I know we can save him."

Isaac shook his head, and he started laughing uncontrollably. "Oh yes, poor sainted Peter Petrelli… he would never do anything wrong. He's _perfect_." Isaac's mocking voice changed to a hiss. "I don't care how wonderful he is or how much you love him, but look at what these paintings are telling us! He's dangerous! Not only to himself but to millions of innocent people. When are you going to realize that?"

By this time, Claire had flung the door open without knocking, and she looked at the couple frantically. She panted in anxiety, and she looked at Isaac desperately. "Please, you can't hurt Peter! He saved my life!"

Isaac and Simone gawked at her, and then she flushed in embarrassment. Isaac shook his head and smirked.

"Well, well, you must be Claire Bennet."

Simone looked back at Isaac and then back to Claire. She appeared confused, yet she was strangely interested in this girl who knew Peter. She cocked her head and gave Claire a scrutinizing look. Isaac noticed Simone's curiosity and raised an eye brow.

"Simone, I guess you haven't met Claire yet," Isaac announced, enjoying this new turn of events a little too much. "Remember the girl Peter dropped everything in his life to go save?" Isaac paused and saw Simone's jaw gape and then close, as she tried to keep her cool disposition. Isaac's tone was lighthearted. "Meet the cheerleader who will save the world."

Simone's eyes widened, and she was too frozen to speak. Isaac then added, "She's also my new assistant."

Claire did the only thing a polite, young southern girl would do in this situation. She smiled prettily at Simone and said, "Uh.. It's nice to meet you... both of you."

--

"So… Peter is missing?" Claire asked. It had been almost twenty minutes since Simone left, and the atmosphere in Isaac's studio was considerably lighter. In fact, upon first meeting Isaac, Claire immediately felt comfortable around him – as if she'd known him all her life. She didn't feel that way so much with Simone.

Sure, the woman was cordial to her, but Claire could tell on her face Simone didn't know what to make of her. Claire really didn't know what was going on in Simone's head, and she thought she was nice enough, but judging from Isaac's behavior in the situation, more was going on between these people than she realized.

"Yeah," Isaac said. "I guess Nathan hasn't told you yet."

Claire looked at him curiously. He was pulling his loose hair back into a ratty bandana. "Why would my bio-dad know anything about Peter?"

Isaac looked at her, "Bio-dad?" He saw Claire blush and then roll her eyes. Curiously, he eyed her. "Claire, do you know anything about your 'bio-dad'?"

She sighed. "Well… not much, and Meredith hasn't told me much either. The only thing is that he wanted me to come here to New York so I could learn more about my powers. He also wanted my close by, it seemed. Meredith said he's in an election race right now so he's trying to hide us as well as keep us near. I don't really understand it, but…" She shrugged her shoulders, and then her expression turned sad. "It's just odd. My whole life is odd." Isaac was silent as she continued. She said in a soft voice, "My other family isn't that much different. By now I should be used to all the secrets people keep from me."

Isaac frowned, feeling somewhat guilty. He was definitely keeping a lot of secrets from Claire as well.

"I'm sorry," she finally said, and he continued to stare at her. He took down her features and was entranced by finally meeting her after all the paintings he did. "We just met, and I'm rambling about my crazy life."

"Don't be sorry," Isaac said, turning away and digging into his freezer. He pulled out a bottle. "It's the reason Nathan wanted you to come here anyway."

"So what does Nathan have to do with Peter?" Claire asked, and her eyes followed Isaac's movements as he poured himself a glass of tomato juice.

He took a sip and stared at her intensely, anxious for her reaction. "Nathan and Peter are brothers."

Claire's eyes widened, and the gum she was chewing almost popped out of her mouth. She brought up her hands to cover the shock. "No… that can't be."

Isaac sighed, realizing the poor girl had some kind of hero worship for Peter. The look on her face indicated that she might be sick. He asked her, "Do you want some water, Claire?"

She nodded, staring intensely at a chipped spot on his counter. Her brain felt jumbled, and her stomach knotted, ready to retch. She took a sip of water, and her face contorted in horror.

'Oh, God, all those nights I was lonely and I thought about him…' She stopped herself before she could think any further. This was some cruel, twisted joke, wasn't it? And as soon as she downed her last gulp of water, her fairytale prince on a white horse fizzled out of existence and was replaced by a slimy, crotchety old uncle who just wanted a little kiss.

"Gah!" Claire screamed aloud, startling Isaac. He almost choked as he took a drink, watching her worriedly.

"Are you going to be okay?"

"Uh… yeah… sorry," she said. "It's been a rough morning." She shook her head, and flashed him a youthful smile. "So, what am I going to be doing at this job anyway?"

Isaac still looked bewildered and then realized she was trying to change the subject. If only he knew she wanted to deter from her strange thoughts and start working like a dog.

"Um… well, it's not the most glamorous of jobs. How much do you know about art and art media?"

"Uh… well, let's see … my one and only art class was in fifth grade, and the teacher said my self-portrait looked like Gumby had a baby with Richard Nixon. Does that give you any clue?"

Isaac snickered. "Well, then, I guess for today, I'm going to give you a little art lesson." He gave her a warm smile that immediately took Claire off guard, and she couldn't help but take in his features. He was quite a good looking man – for an older man anyway. Claire mentally kicked herself, and she continued to listen to him.

"I'd advise not wearing anything you don't want paint on. I have a few smocks in the back. I'll grab you one for today just in case," Isaac informed her, and Claire followed him as he moved to the closet full of shirts and smocks. Strong fumes from the paint and media filled her nostrils, and her head began to feel light. It was definitely a smell she'd have to get used to.

Walking by, she stopped as Isaac went ahead and rummaged around his closet. She looked around at his paintings and noticed something familiar.

It was her – and she was in her cheerleading outfit.

"Hey…it's me," she said softly, and Isaac turned around. He caught a glimpse of her awed expression, and he scratched his head nervously.

"Yeah… I painted this a long time ago, before Peter went to save you."

Claire nodded. "So this… this is how he knew to save me?" She saw the largest picture of her face, hand outstretched in a gesture of panic. She looked to her right, searching for more, and her gaze caught a painting of Peter. He was flying. She felt tears well up in her eyes, and she longed to trace her finger over his image. She kept her hand back, hesitating and not wanting to mar any of Isaac's paintings.

'He saved me, and he's _family_. He probably didn't know then, but he saved me anyway. I was a stranger.' She turned her gaze to the ground and longed to see Peter again, wondering why he disappeared.

Isaac watched her silently as she drew in the imagery. He couldn't have guessed what she was thinking, but he knew the painting of Peter disturbed her. He followed her gaze, and then saw the horrified look on her face as she stared at the floor.

"Oh…oh my God!" she exclaimed, and she looked frantically back at Isaac. "Is this…?"

Isaac came over to her, looking at the explosion he painted on the ground. "Yes… this is the explosion that's going to happen. This is what we've been working to prevent."

"We?"

"People like you and me, Claire. People with gifts." He looked around to all his paintings, and then he sighed. "All of these people are connected. We're connected by our powers, and we're connected by this event. We thought you were the centralized person in this event. Peter said someone from the future told him to save you, to save the world. I believed him, then, and I helped him find you." Isaac turned to her with a serious expression. "We thought by saving you, we could prevent the explosion, but that's not true anymore."

"What…what do you mean?"

Isaac gave her a sympathetic look. He knew the girl had close feelings toward Peter. "Since then I've been painting a lot. I never used to paint without drugs, but I learned how to, and now I haven't been able to stop." He paused, and Claire was stunned. There was just too much information for her to soak in. "Claire, I painted an exploding man … the cause of the destruction of the city. I believe the man who explodes is Peter."

She felt a hitch in her throat, and then her eyes feel heavy. The last thing she heard was Isaac calling out to her as she fell into darkness.

--

Peter stood outside the window, and he watched in awe as Isaac put a cold rag over Claire's head. When he came here for any new paintings, he did not expect the cheerleader he saved to be in Isaac's studio.

'What was she doing here?' he asked himself, and jealousy and confusion simmered in his blood. Claude was laughing by his side, and he even made an off-color comment that the artist was stealing all of Peter's women.

As Claude fed the pigeons on Isaac's rooftop, he let Peter mope about on the side. Peter knew that Claude could care less if Peter took his breaks from training to brood about his problems. He usually made comments to bring Peter out of his depression, hoping he would gain some sense. Although, this time, Claude was giving Peter a small berth, and he graciously kept quiet about 'his' cheerleader now lying on Isaac's couch.

Suddenly, Peter looked up at the rooftop, and Claude was gazing over the side at the city skyline. As long as he was close, Peter stayed invisible, and he decided to slip into Isaac's studio to check on Claire.

Peter could hear running water in the back of Isaac's studio, and he presumed Isaac was cleaning his brushes. He looked down at Claire, sleeping on the couch, and her normal healthy tanned skin was sallow and pale. 'What happened to her?'

He studied her face, and she was sleeping peacefully. He watched as she breathed, and he took pride in being the hero who helped preserve her life. And the longer he watched her, the more he wanted to become visible and talk to her.

Peter heard a beep to his side, and on Isaac's end table, a pink phone buzzed with a message. He was sure Isaac wasn't into pink, so it must have been Claire's. Picking up the phone, he scrolled through the settings menu and found her number.

He memorized it, and as he heard Isaac's footsteps coming toward the room, he put the phone down and dashed back out the window. Claude peered down at him as he heard the window close. He gave him a strange look and then shook his head.

"Come on then," he said, motioning for Peter to come up to the roof and join him. "Let's work on bringing out some more powers."

"How about mind reading powers of that cop?" Peter suggested quickly, and Claude raised an eyebrow at him. Hesitantly, he nodded, and then he nagged at him to concentrate. Peter would work extra hard this time.

His thoughts looped back to Isaac and Claire. He would've given anything in the world right now to just hear their thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Well, for the likely chance that they're going to kill off Isaac in the show, I'm just reminding everyone that this story is an AU from "Distractions". You don't need to remind me a character has died; I watch the show too. HEE. Thanks to everyone who has given me support on this project and I'll try to bring in quicker updates!**

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Girl in the Painting

Chapter Four

Claire opened her eyes as the buzz on her cell phone woke her up. Blinking several times, she realized she was still in Isaac's studio, and there was a weight from a cold cloth over her forehead. Automatically, she reached for her phone and clicked the receiver.

"Hello?" she droned, and she heard sighing on the other end.

"Claire, honey, are you still at work?" It was Meredith, and she sounded concerned.

"Oh, mom, hi…Yes, I'm still here," Claire groaned, which got an immediate response from Meredith.

"Are you alright? You sound out of it."

"Oh, no, I'm fine. I was just … zoning out a bit. I'm not quite used to the paint fumes," Claire responded, and she saw that Isaac had come back into the room on the corner of her eye.

"Well, I was just wondering when you'd be coming home. I'm mostly unpacked, and I'd like to take us out for dinner. I know this great Sushi place," Meredith babbled happily, and Claire resisted rolling her eyes.

'No doubt take us out with Nathan's money,' Claire inwardly mused, and she reminded herself to give Meredith a break. She was trying…

"Oh, sounds great!" Claire said with excitement. She looked at the clock in Isaac's studio. "I'll be home in a couple of hours."

"Okay, sweetie, see you then!" And her mother said a cheery goodbye and hung up. Claire looked over at Isaac apologetically.

"I am _sooo_ sorry I passed out like that," Claire said, swallowing nervously. "It's never happened before."

Isaac wiped a towel over his freshly clean hands and continued to eye her worriedly. He shook his head and smiled. "Don't worry about it. I'm… sorry you had to learn about the bomb in that way… and about Peter."

The color in Claire's face paled, and she looked away from Isaac's inquiring eyes. Her stomach still knotted at the thought of Peter being her uncle, as well as a ticking time bomb.

She inhaled a draught of breath and said resolutely, "It's okay. Maybe… maybe we can help him." She turned to Isaac who seemed shocked by her determination. "There must be a way to save him."

Isaac bit his lip nervously, reminded of Simone's own faith in Peter. He wondered too that maybe he should have thought differently of Peter, perhaps helped him and not got involved with the likes of Mr. Bennet. Doubt and uncertainty gnawed at his conscience, and he shifted his gaze away from Claire.

"Uh… I hope there is. I wish there was something I can do, and I'm working with Nathan to paint clues on how to find him," Isaac revealed. He knew that Nathan wanted to keep things pretty secret, but he knew that one of the main reasons Claire was here was to teach her about using her powers. He didn't know how to portray the issue that she was predominantly here to be used as bait.

Isaac scratched his head idly and paced around his studio, looking for something to do. As Claire watched him, he said conversationally, "Are you going soon? I'm sorry I eavesdropped on your conversation with your mom."

Claire smiled, replying, "It's okay. Yeah, I should get going. I feel bad that I didn't get to learn anything today. Some assistant, huh?" she joked.

"Hey, don't worry about it," Isaac said turning to her. He flashed a reassuring smile, and Claire felt her cheeks go slightly hot again at his pleasing features. He certainly wasn't hard to look at. He teased her by replying, "I promise I won't be one of those hard-ass bosses."

Relieved by his casual behavior, Claire rewarded him with a flirtatious smile and cocked her head to him. She replied in jest, "Well, don't be too easy on me; we'd probably never get anything done."

Isaac smiled widely and a flash of his sensual dream accosted his mind. He froze slightly to the memory, and then inwardly shook it away. He tried to look away and shed the awkward feeling building up in his stomach. But he couldn't stop staring, and Claire met his gaze evenly. He winked at her and then said, "Well, just as long as there's no more fainting."

"I promise," Claire replied, her eyes still locked with his. Finally, Isaac quickly looked away; sure he was saving himself from some preliminary trouble.

"When you come in tomorrow, I'll be waiting for Simone. She's going to be taking paintings down to the gallery I usually show at. Do you think you can help me get them ready before you go today?"

Claire nodded and followed him as he walked around his paintings. He was about to start pointing at the ones that needed to go, and then her cell phone rang again.

Curiously, Claire furrowed her brow at the unknown number and wondered who it could be. Was her bio-dad calling her on a restricted number? She couldn't think of any other reason.

She gave Isaac an apologetic look and walked off to the kitchen for privacy. Isaac stared at her as she moved away. He welcomed the silence of his studio and tried to listen to her voice.

"Hello?" Claire asked cautiously. Her eyes widened as she realized the voice on the other end.

"Claire? This is Peter." And she was _this_ close to dropping the phone on the floor. She gasped.

"Peter!" she squeaked out, and she didn't notice that Isaac had moved closer to listen to them, extremely interested in their interaction.

"Claire… thank goodness I found you," Peter said, and Claire's blood heated to the care she felt in his voice. Then, her stomach turned and she had to remind herself that Peter was and always will be her uncle. Regardless, he was contacting her, and he was the very person she was desperate to see.

"How did you find this number? Where are you? Peter, are you okay?" she asked frantically, trying to keep her voice down but still bursting with anxiety.

"Listen, Claire, I know that you're working in Isaac's studio." He paused and she heard him sigh heavily. "God, there's so much I want to say to you. We have to meet."

"O..okay," Claire stammered, and hung on his every word. "Where? When?"

"Claire, I know you just got her to New York, but can you get to Central Park?" Peter asked hurriedly. Claire could tell he wanted to talk quickly, but she would rather talk to him for as long as she could.

"Yes," she replied. "I can take a cab…"

"Good," he cut her off. "I don't have much time. Meet me there in two days, early morning at seven. Can you do that, Claire?"

"Of course, Peter," Claire said. 'Anything for you,' she thought sadly.

"I can't wait to see you," he finally said, his voice intoned with affection. Uncle or not, she felt her heart melting. Then, he hung up and she drowned in the dead silence of her phone.

Isaac had shifted away from the kitchen back over to his paintings. He was stunned at how happy Claire was in meeting Peter. It only confirmed that Claire had some deep emotional feelings toward him. Peter was, undoubtedly, her hero, and it was obvious.

Feeling a pang of jealousy, Isaac shook the thoughts from his head and mulled over the choice to tell Nathan… or even Mr. Bennet as well. As he thought of Claire, he knew that she was a sweet person and every moment he got more acquainted with her, he felt torn that what he was doing on her behalf was really the right thing to do.

He really didn't like the idea that his decisions could end up hurting her – not after the effort he and Peter had made to save her.

"Okay, I'm back," Claire chimed in, disrupting his thoughts. Isaac met her with a smile and led her back over to the paintings.

"Great. This shouldn't take long." Isaac pointed to the paintings stacked against the wall to his right. "Those over there are already piled together. I've just got a few from the series that are sporadically stacked with others. Just look at the ones in that pile, and you can leaf throw all the other stacks. If they look the same, bring 'em out and set them with the others. Just ask me questions if you're not sure."

"Okay," Claire said, beaming at him brightly, and she dutifully went off to work. Isaac looked away, trying to immerse himself into the task without glancing at her.

Because the more he looked at her, the more he had doubts about his decisions.

--

The next morning, Claire and Isaac watched the clock, waiting for Simone. She was at least two hours late. Isaac had called her cell phone, only to get her voicemail twice. He called down to the studio, and she hadn't been there either.

Claire tried not to be bored as they waited for Simone. She watched Isaac ruefully as he ran his fingers throw his hair and paced the room nervously. She knew that he was deeply worried about Simone.

"This is not good," Isaac said in a low voice without looking at her. He rubbed his chin, and then stared at the floor. "Damn it, I should have done something."

"What's wrong?" Claire asked, surprised by his rambling.

"I…" Isaac paused and looked up at her. There was deep pain in his eyes. "I painted Simone not too long ago. It's not clear, but she had this surprised look on her face, and the colors on the canvas are monochrome blue…" He bit on a fingernail and sighed in exasperation. He looked to Claire worriedly again. "I can't help but thinking that painting meant she was in danger."

"But Isaac, you had no way of knowing…"

"No… my paintings always come true. Always. I hope…" And he paused again. "I hope that she isn't hurt…or…" He cut himself off there, and sat roughly onto his couch. Claire slowly came over to him, sitting next to him as he held his head in his hands, face shrouded in panic.

"Don't say that, Isaac. You don't know that she's in trouble. She could just be caught in traffic or something…" Claire reassured, and Isaac shook his head frantically.

"No, I can feel it. Something's wrong." He sighed again. "I should have never brought her into this again. I tried to warn her about all of this… about Peter." Claire watched him with great interest now, and he rambled on with venom in his voice. "But she didn't listen to me. She believed in him… like everyone does, and now this madman is loose and then the city is supposed to explode and I should have protected her!" Isaac turned to her and there was pain in his eyes. "I should have fired her as my art dealer and told her to get away from New York… but it was too late, she was already caught up with this… with him!"

Claire was stunned, and she never imagined Isaac would have this side to him. He was raving, disturbed about Simone and her dealings with Peter. But what did Isaac's art dealer have to do with Peter?

"Why did you warn her about Peter? How does she know about us? Is she special too?" Claire asked. She was very confused. Isaac turned to her and realized that Claire didn't know everything.

He replied, "Simone used to be my girlfriend. I used drugs, Claire, and at that time, they were the only way I could see the future. She tried to get me to stop, but I was too obsessed. I needed them to solve the puzzle of all the people with powers connected. I needed them to complete the prophecy of saving you." He looked her and smiled proudly. He had done all this at one time for her, and Claire could tell he didn't regret it. "She couldn't handle it. She told me to quit or she'd leave. And when she left, she ran right into Peter's arms."

Claire gaped and then Isaac looked away. He knew Claire had allusions of Peter, and he wondered what she thought about her hero being with Simone. He wondered if it stung for her as much as it did for him.

"When I got clean, she wouldn't take me back." He laughed mockingly at himself and continued, "I was working the same cause as him, but I was still a stupid junkie in her eyes. I was never as good as Peter."

Claire's blood froze, and for once she truly saw the pain etched on Isaac's face. He looked dejected, hurt and betrayed. There was so much animosity building up in his features, and she knew it was all for Peter.

"I'm sorry, Isaac," Claire said. She knew it wasn't enough, but she didn't know what else to say. "I… I had no idea."

Isaac was silent for a moment, and then he shook his head. He turned to her. "There's nothing for you to be sorry about. You're innocent in all of this."

"But if it wasn't for me… if you didn't have a cheerleader to save…"

"I'd still be doing drugs, searching for answers," he finished for her. He turned to her and gripped her shoulders. "Don't you ever think this is your fault. I'd do it all over again if I was given the chance."

Claire stared at him, stunned by his touch and intentions. Merely yesterday, Isaac was a stranger to her. She felt her heart warm from the look in his eyes. She never realized that she had more than one hero in all of this.

But Peter was still her hero, and it bothered her that Isaac disliked him so much.

"Then you think this is Peter's fault?" Claire said, her expression showing her feelings. Isaac froze as he watched her. "You think that Peter is in the wrong? I'm sorry but I can't believe that." Isaac appeared even more dejected, and Claire tried to reassure him. "I understand how you feel about Simone, and maybe I don't know all the details, but when Peter came to save me… there'd never been a purer person I'd met in my whole life."

"Claire… even if Peter's a good person, it doesn't change the fact that eventually he'll lose control of all the powers he's absorbed and then he'll explode. His good intentions will not hinder him from unknowningly harming millions of people in this city," Isaac said rationally, and Claire looked away sadly.

"I know," she replied. "That's why I have to save him." She looked resolutely at Isaac and said with determination, "It's my turn to help him. Maybe I can heal him… something."

Isaac's hands were on her shoulders again and his voice was intoned with warning. "Claire, you need to be careful of Peter. Please."

Claire looked at him bewildered, wondering why Isaac would think Peter would endanger her. She was invulnerable after all. Finally she cocked her head to him and smiled. "Don't worry, Isaac. I'll be alright."

And in her voice, Isaac was starting to believe that maybe Claire was the purest hope that both he and Peter could have.

She stood up from the couch and took his hand. "C'mon. Let's take these paintings down to the gallery and look for Simone. Maybe she's left a message."

Isaac smiled and then nodded. He began following Claire as they rounded up his paintings, and increasingly, he became entranced by the cheerleader's unlimited fortitude.

--

Isaac frowned, becoming even more worried as the day had been wasted and still there was no sign of Simone. Claire put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"They haven't heard from her either. Damn!" Isaac cursed, and Claire looked outside the studio as the day was getting darker.

"Let's keep waiting," Claire said. "We can help them hang your paintings and hopefully she'll turn up… or even call."

Isaac nodded automatically, and he looked at Claire gratefully as she continued to support him. Still, something gnawed inside him that things were not okay – that Simone really was in danger.

He looked out the front window anxiously, searching for any sign. The unfeeling busy New Yorkers that bustled by only added to his falling hope – none of them showing signs of being Simone.

As dusk crept in, the lights turned on, illuminating the city and keeping it alive. Shadows saturated the darkest crevices, tumbling further into a forgotten background.

A lone figure hovered under the umbrella of pitch black, peering with interest at the yellow-tinted gallery across the street. Inside he saw a young girl and a man desperately look out the window, frantically searching hope in the night. He smiled in satisfaction. He was getting two prizes for the price of one.

He felt the blood drip down his fingers onto the pavement, and he turned his head slowly to a crumpled heap behind him in the alley. The body was dark, with dark skin and dark clothes, faintly shimmering with reflections from fresh, wet blood.

Sylar smiled widely at the body and turned his head back to the gallery with intrigue. "Well, it seems it wasn't a waste to kill you after all."


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Sorry for the delay. I've been terribly busy. I hope this chapter makes up for it! Thanks for the support.

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Girl in the Painting

Chapter Five

The next morning, Isaac woke up groggily to someone moving around in his studio. Automatically, he thought it was Simone, for the whole night before he'd been wrought with worry, hoping she'd eventually turn up. So he rushed out of bed, searching anxiously for the source.

His eyes fell on Claire, and internally, he felt disappointed. She was not Simone.

Claire turned around and met his eyes, and she rewarded him with a brilliant smile.

"Oh, good morning, sleepy-head," she greeted. "I hope you don't mind. I let myself in and started early. Thanks for the key last night."

Isaac watched her momentarily, fascinated by her presence in his studio. It was something unfamiliar, yet she radiated a comfortable glow like she truly belonged here. He tried not to stare, so he walked over to his fridge, glancing at her as she busied herself around the studio.

Pulling out some Kool-Aid, Isaac sat down at his counter and watched her. Claire turned around, caught his gaze and frowned.

"Don't tell me that's your breakfast," Claire said, and she put the dirty brushes she was gathering down on a cart table. She came over to the kitchen and faced him across the counter, eyeing his Kool-Aid with pity.

"Uh…" Isaac stuttered, looking down at his drink. "Yes, I guess so."

Claire made a huffing noise, and she moved toward his fridge. He watched her groggily but was fascinated by her movements. He eyed her outfit for a second, and he realized Claire had listened to him about wearing old clothes.

Claire opened the door to his fridge and frowned even more. "You don't have anything to eat in here." She surveyed the Kool-Aid, Guinness, and myriad other condiments that adorned his fridge. He didn't even have milk or eggs!

Isaac yawned and then took another sip. "What do you expect? I'm a bachelor." He couldn't help but smirk as she pouted at him. His eyes traveled down to her shirt, and he was intrigued by the screen printed image. Claire caught him staring at her and looked down at her chest.

Isaac flushed, not wanting to get caught for looking at her chest, rather the cartoon that was on it. "Nice… shirt. It's rather old isn't it?" His face paled, shifting his gaze away. She barely _fit_ into that shirt, her young curves accentuated by the extra small t-shirt.

"Oh, this?" Claire smiled genuinely, and she seemed relieved that Isaac was only interested in the cartoon. She replied, "Yeah, I guess it is. It's the only one I could find. I usually wear it to bed, but all my stuff hasn't come from Odessa yet." She paused, and her expression seemed distant, preoccupied with old memories.

"Is that a cartoon you watched when you grew up?" Isaac asked. He heard of the show, but had never seen it. And to think Claire watched cartoons – sometimes he'd forgotten how young she really was. For one her age, she acted very mature.

"Bonkers, yeah. It was a hilarious show. I loved it as a kid." She shrugged, and grabbed the ends of her shirt, stretching it to look at the picture appreciatively. "It's a shame that I have to get it dirty though."

"I can give you something else, you know," Isaac responded. He gave her small smirk. "If it's that nostalgic."

"Ha, don't worry about it." She smiled at him, and they locked eyes. "It's just another thing from the past, right? It's not even my life anymore." Her voice was sad, and she stared at a spot on the counter, avoiding his eyes.

Isaac put his drink down and looked at her with concern. "Claire…"

Claire shook her head. "It's okay. I'm just… I'm still adjusting to this new life. You wanna hear something funny? Last night when I got home, I half expected Meredith to be sick with worry that I wasn't home yet. I expected her to yell at me and then ground me. At least, my other mom would have done that. But you know what she did instead?"

Isaac shook his head, watching her and letting her continue. "She was passed out on the couch with Conan on, and there was a pint of Hagan Daas melting in her lap. At first, I thought it was the most hilarious thing ever… but then I realized it was kinda sad."

Claire turned to him and met his eyes. "I can't believe I actually wanted her to yell at me for staying out late last night, but she really didn't care."

Isaac watched her with sympathy, but he didn't know what to say. Claire was obviously hurting and still confused about why she was here or what she was supposed to do next. She left her home and the only family she's ever known for a totally different world.

"Claire… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to keep you out so late…"

"Oh gees, Isaac, stop apologizing," she responded. She reached over and grabbed his arm and squeezed, and she looked him square in the face. "I _wanted_ to help last night. I really did. I'm concerned about where your friend is just as much as you are."

She let go of his arm, and Isaac was slightly sad for the lack of touch. She turned and looked at the paintings again propped around the studio.

"I know I belong here in New York, but I don't feel like I fit just yet…" She sighed, and then she rubbed her forehead. "I should be the one who's sorry." She looked over to Isaac again, regret in her deep eyes. "I shouldn't be rambling about my problems when Simone is missing." Isaac looked away from her, and Claire knew that the man was still distraught about his ex-girlfriend. She asked cautiously, "Have you heard any news yet about her whereabouts?"

Isaac shook his head. "No… no one's called yet. I can't even report her missing. The cops say for an adult it has to be like 72 hours or something. They won't listen when I say that there's something wrong." He shrugged his shoulders and looked away from her gaze. "Hey, who believes some junkie prophet anyway?"

"I believe you, Isaac," Claire said, and when he turned to look at her, she was smiling brightly at him again. He could have sworn his heart stopped momentarily when he stared at her youthful grace.

He laughed lightly. Her smile was contagious. He nodded his head and said, "Thanks."

"Now!" she chirped, rolling up her sleeves. "What shall I do first? Clean your brushes? Maybe I should organize all your paintings. Do some dusting?" He looked at her bewildered, impressed she could change moods so fast. She gave him a toothy smile. "But first, why don't I start off with breakfast?"

"Uh… well, if you hadn't noticed, I have no food here," he replied. "But I appreciate the gesture."

She winked at him and pointed her finger at him. "Problem solved! I saw a corner market store just down the street. It looks like a Mexican-based grocer, but I bet they have the essentials." She turned away from him for a moment, and began digging in her purse. "Ah! I have a bit left from Meredith." She picked up her purse and headed toward the door. "I guess brunch is on Meredith today. I'll be back!" And Isaac watched her exit the door down the stairs.

"Huh…" he murmured to himself, stunned by Claire's energy. "Incredible." And he walked over to a fresh canvas and prepped his materials for painting.

--

When Claire returned, Isaac was painting under the influence of his ability. He didn't even hear her come in as he was slashing and stroking away at the canvas, his vision coloring to life.

At first she was intrigued by him, stopping to stare as she walked through the door. She watched him as he worked methodically, extremely unaware of her and his environment. And he would hop from canvas to canvas, erecting a clean one right away when another was finished. Some of them were of people she'd never seen, but all of them were precise and beautiful – taking shape as if the scene could happen right in front of them in real life.

And even though she could recognize some paintings with Peter, Isaac, and even Simone, Claire turned away and let him be, trying not to impose on his privacy and get to cooking brunch.

She cleaned off his stove and counters, noticing the burners had not been used in a long time. She was sure Isaac ate out a lot, or maybe hardly at all. She idly wondered about the last time he'd had a home cooked meal. Shrugging the thought away, she returned to work and started cutting some of the chicken and vegetables. And after some digging, she unearthed a frying pan and a couple others, and began washing them in the sink.

Isaac still continued to paint, and she would glance at him once in awhile. When the food was cooked and ready to eat, she took a break. She decided to stay occupied while Isaac worked, and she roamed around his studio and looked at the paintings. She knew Isaac eventually wanted to pull them out together and figure out which ones he should sell, even the ones he thought were sub-par and not done under the influence. He was famous enough now that he could probably sell just about anything.

Claire wandered down his hallway toward his bedroom curiously, hoping to find any discarded paintings in there. She flushed, a little embarrassed to be invading Isaac's private bedroom. She was entranced though, as she looked around and took in the atmosphere where Isaac slept.

It was a lot barer than she thought it would be. Isaac was an artist, so she guessed he would have more creative things in his room, giving him midnight inspirations. Instead, his walls were painted warm gray, and the blinds rigidly shut out any light. The bed was haphazardly made, with a few blankets unkempt over a bedding cover on the mattress. Leaning against the walls of the room, she found discarded canvases, none of them complete or worth anything Isaac would sell.

But then something caught her eye.

Turning around, she couldn't see Isaac but was sure he was still painting vigorously with his powers. So Claire inched forward and eyed the canvas edge sticking out behind his bed. On the side of the canvas was exotic red and yellow hues, and when she pulled it out, she gasped when she noticed the full composition.

It was a painting of her – and she was nude.

She quickly returned the painting behind the bed and walked out of his bedroom. She stopped in the hallway, confused to what was going on. Why would Isaac paint a picture of her like that? And was it one of his prophecies? She could have sworn the painting placed her in Isaac's studio. But what was she doing here like that?

She flushed, and her brow furrowed. 'What's going on here?' And she began to wonder if there was more to Isaac than she really knew. Was he hiding anything from her?

The image of the painting flashed in her mind, and she gritted her teeth. She was determined to know exactly what that painting was about.

--

Claire returned to the kitchen feeling anxious. Not only was that painting still accosting her thoughts, but the food she cooked Isaac was getting cold.

And he was still painting like mad.

Claire sighed and started walking over to him. She brought him a sample of one of her quesadillas and hoped he was almost done painting. When Claire walked over to him, she froze, dropping the food she was holding in her hand.

Her mouth gaped, and her eyes glued to the painting. She stepped back, only to crash into a cart table and knock off a bottle of linseed oil. Isaac snapped out of it and turned around to the commotion.

"Claire…what the…" He looked at the mess on the floor, oil pouring into the food she prepared, and then he looked up at her face. Her normally tanned skin was white as a sheet.

"Oh, no… is that…?" She pointed to the painting, and Isaac turned to look. His mouth went dry.

The painting was of Sylar and Claire, and Sylar was coming after her.

Isaac clamped his hand over his mouth and looked at Claire with dread. The madman was coming after her again. Claire wasn't safe here.

He turned to Claire, and she backed away from the painting in shock ready to fall. Isaac caught her, his arms squeezing her shoulders trying to calm her.

"Claire, calm down…"

Tears ebbed in her eyes, and she shook her head. "Not again. He's coming again."

She was breathing erratically, and she turned to Isaac, tears flowing down her cheeks. "What's going on, Isaac? Just why am I really here?"

He watched her in confusion, shaking his head. "I … I don't know what you mean…"

"I found the painting, Isaac," she announced, and Isaac paled. "Of me in your bedroom." Isaac said nothing, and Claire slacked in his grip, looking over at his new painting again. "And now this? What am I supposed to do here? How can my bio-dad protect me if _he's_ coming back?"

"Claire, you need to calm down," Isaac said. "We can figure out this painting, just calm down. It'll all make sense."

She broke from his grip and looked at him worriedly. "Will it?" She turned away and sighed bitterly. "I don't understand anything."

"About the painting, Claire… please believe me when I say I don't know what it's about. I'm sorry I painted you in such a way… but I can't control my prophecies. I really can't."

She bit her lip and kept her gaze away from his. Tears continued to sparkle in her eyes. She nodded. She knew deep down Isaac really couldn't control his powers or what he painted. She had witnessed such an event today.

"It's okay…I understand that you can't help it. I don't blame you." She looked at him desperately. "I'm just so confused."

Isaac ran a hand nervously through his hair and then said, "I haven't told your dad about the painting of you…" He smiled sheepishly. "I was afraid he'd kill me."

Claire paused, and she managed to crack a smile amidst the tears. Her voice was still shaky when she said, "I don't know what to think of that painting, Isaac." Her light voice turned severe, and she looked at the new painting and stated, "But it's that one I'm not sure about."

Isaac turned around and sighed. "Yeah, I know; that one scares me too." He looked to the painting and then to her. "I don't know if you're safe here anymore. I should call your dad and have him hide you somewhere else." Isaac turned to pick up the phone, but Claire ran to him, putting a hand on his arm.

"No!" She stopped him. "You can't…I have to stay here."

Isaac gave her a peculiar look. "But Claire… Sylar is out there looking for you in New York. The background in that portrait is just a few blocks from my studio."

"I know, but I can't leave yet. And I can't tell you why either," she said, eyeing him seriously.

Isaac said nothing, but he knew exactly why she wanted to stay. He remembered; tomorrow, she was meeting Peter.

"Okay," he replied reluctantly. He gripped her shoulders again. "I want you to be careful. You can't go out on your own anymore. I should come with you. I should protect you."

Claire froze, staring at his intense dark eyes and then smiling lightly. "Thanks," she replied, putting a light hand over his as he still held her. "But who's going to protect you?"

"I don't need protection, Claire." He broke away from her, and then looked at his new paintings. He stared at the one of Claire and Sylar. "Your life is the most important one here. If he gets you…" He didn't finish his sentence. With Claire's powers in Sylar's hands, the man would be unstoppable. Not to mention, a sweet, brilliant girl would lose her life. He'd never allow that to happen, not after all he'd gone through to save her.

Claire came up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't say that, Isaac. Please." Her voice trembled, and her touch was warm and light over his skin. He turned around, hypnotized once again by her sweetness and grace. He looked into her face and ached to touch the loose tendrils of blonde hair that had fallen out of her pony tail. Instead, he sniffed and then smiled at her.

"I smell food." And Claire let out an unexpected guffaw, breaking the mournful silence.

"I should have guessed food would help out in a crisis," Claire said, watching Isaac stalk over to the kitchen and leer at the food.

"You did _not_ just make me a spicy omelet and quesadillas," he looked up at her, grinning like a little boy.

"I certainly did," Claire chirped, rolling her eyes and laughing. "It's about time you had some food in your stomach, and I thought this was an appropriate time to try out some recipes from Meredith's Mexican cookbooks."

Claire walked over to the counter, leaning over and watching Isaac appreciatively as he scarfed down her food. She sighed in contentment, and Isaac seemed to forget about the painting for the moment.

"What's that?" Isaac said with a mouthful of food, and he pointed to her paper bag she had brought with her this morning.

Claire noticed it and said, "Oh! I almost forgot. I brought you comfort food… because of last night. I knew Simone's disappearance was hard on you, so I made you something."

Isaac arched an eyebrow, and then walked over to the bag. Claire grinned at him as he opened it, and as he peeked inside, he looked at her curiously again.

"Cupcakes?"

"Not just any cupcakes, Isaac. Those are Bennet Family Comfort Cupcakes. One of a kind, and guaranteed to cure what ails you."

He reached in the bag and snatched one up, sniffing it before he took a bite. Claire giggled as red frosting stuck to the corners of his mouth. Isaac grinned, making a noise of ecstasy. "Damn… comfort food is right." He shot Claire a playful stare. "It's not the only thing that's one of a kind here."

Claire smiled, blushing and then cocking her head to him. "Hey now, I'm just trying to do the best job I can." She sashayed over to him and dipped her hand into the bag for a cupcake of her own. He watched her as she took a bite, tongue tasting the frosting before her teeth sank into the cake. Isaac felt his heart beat quicken and caught her watching him intently with her light eyes.

"Hey," he whispered. "Aren't these _my_ cupcakes?"

She gave him a challenging grin. "I think the baker is allowed a taste as well."

"Oh you do, do you?" Isaac chuckled, and he became caught in her mesmerizing gaze. She looked at him expectantly, and he had to catch himself before he fell. Instead, he broke the dangerous moment, and dipped his cupcake onto the tip of her nose. She gasped as he smeared her with frosting.

He laughed heartily and dashed away from her as she tried to grab him.

"Isaac!" she screamed, and she began running after him around his centered counter.

When catching him seemed futile, she stopped, and licked the frosting off her nose. He watched her with intrigue, not knowing many women that could reach their tongue that far.

"Nice trick," he responded approvingly. Claire harrumphed.

"I thought you were more mature," Claire said haughtily. She wiped the remaining frosting off her face and then licked her fingers. Isaac tried desperately not to gawk. "I can't believe you would attack a girl with her own food like that."

He walked over to her and pinched her arm. "And I thought you were indestructible. I guess that cupcake frosting is your kryptonite, Super-Claire."

"Haha," she said, and then she placed her hands on her hips and looked at him angrily. "Are you going to finish this awesome meal I cooked for you or not?"

Isaac raised an eyebrow. Truly after that scene, he wasn't really hungry for food anymore. He had to hold himself back though, knowing full well that having such alluring thoughts about Claire was treading upon dangerous territory. It didn't help that he'd been painting her and dreaming of her – and now he was getting closer to her in just a short time.

"Don't worry," he said lazily, popping part of a quesadilla into his mouth. "I'd never waste such a lovely meal."

"Darn right," she replied, nodding resolutely. Isaac immediately laughed. Dazzled with him, Claire couldn't help but smile as well.

"So Isaac…" she said in a softer voice. She rested her elbows on the counter and watched him eat. "Tell me about that painting… about the one in your bedroom."

Isaac stopped eating and then sighed. "There's not much to tell. The same day your father asked me to hire and watch you was the day I did the painting. I can't explain it. I just know you look very happy, but in the background the city is on fire."

"Huh, let's not forget I'm going commando," Claire retorted, and Isaac almost choked on his food.

He composed himself and said, "I don't know why you're worried about it. I've had assistants pose for me in the past. Maybe one day you gain the courage and pose for me." He looked away, hoping that his explanation would hush her curiosity and they could move on from the subject. "The human female body is something to be celebrated, not be embarrassed about."

Claire eyed him suspiciously. "Since when is that in the job description?" Isaac was sure the thought made her uncomfortable.

"It's usually not, but it is a plus. Actually, in the ad I did specify wanting some time from my assistant for figure drawing. I don't think you're dad really knew what the ad was about anyway." He stopped and watched her as she mulled the idea over. "But don't worry, of course I wouldn't ask that of you. You're too young, and I'm sure you're not comfortable with it."

Claire nodded, frowning somewhat when Isaac called her young. He mentally cursed himself. He just couldn't win could he? He continued to eat, hoping the topic would go away.

"Isaac…" Claire chimed in the silence, a thoughtful look still on her face. "What if the painting is for something else? I mean, why would you just paint me for a figure drawing if the city is burning?"

"Hn. Good question," he said, and then he met her eyes. "Look Claire, we can piece it together eventually. But I'm not concerned about that painting for now. Right now I'm concerned about finding Simone and making sure Sylar doesn't hurt you." Claire nodded and forced a smile. Isaac reached over and placed a hand on her forearm. She looked into his serious expression. "Claire, thank you for today."

"What for?"

"The food and… for being here," Isaac answered. Claire seemed to relax to that, and Isaac grinned. He couldn't stop himself, but in such a vulnerable moment, he gave Claire a flirtatious look.

He spoke in a low, husky voice. "Keep it up and you could get a raise."

Claire inwardly shivered as his smooth voice filtered into her ears. She felt heat rise from below. Her face turned pink. She cocked her head challengingly at him and put a hand over his. She joked, "Let's just hope I get to keep my clothes on for my job review."

Isaac's eyes widened and he pulled his arm away, embarrassed. Claire inwardly grinned, feeling an odd victory. And for awhile, he hadn't said much to her for the rest of the day.


	6. Chapter 6

Girl in the Painting

Chapter Six

_The scent of paint media filled her nostrils, and she heard her own laughter softly echoing in the background. She felt strong, rough hands slide up her legs and then lightly trace circles over her stomach. Soft, red satin was pushed aside from her body, and she could feel the cool chill of the room against her nude flesh._

"_Hey," she said. "You said this wasn't in the job description."_

_She heard chuckling, and she squinted up into the warm, yellow spotlight to make out his face. Suddenly, Isaac's voice rang smoothly in her ears._

"_This is what is called overtime," he replied in a whisper. And whatever he was doing to her, Claire was definitely enjoying it…_

--

Her tired eyes jarred open to the sound of her cell phone alarm. She blinked several times, staring at the ceiling before she moved awake in her bed.

'Did I just have an erotic dream about Isaac?' Claire asked herself in disbelief, mentally cursing herself for her base desires. 'Great, you find out one cute guy is your uncle, so then you turn around and start dreaming about the next cute guy that comes along.'

Groaning awake, she sat in her bed and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. She was trying to tell herself that having a dream about her new employer was a bad thing, yet she couldn't be convinced. Isaac was definitely handsome and extremely sweet. It was obvious he would care a lot about a woman, judging by the way he talked about Simone.

Her only problem was that he was definitely too old her and still, totally and utterly in love with Simone. He probably wouldn't give Claire one romantic thought.

Claire sighed heavily, and she looked out her bedroom window. Birds were landing on the window sill, chirping and then flying off at the slightest sound of movement.

Claire looked at her clock again and realized she had gotten up early on purpose. Feeling her blood run cold, she remembered that she was meeting Peter today in Central Park. She was nervous about meeting him – she hadn't seen him in such a long time, and for the longest time, to meet him had been her reason for going on after all that had happened to her.

And it really didn't matter anymore that he was her uncle. It wasn't about _that_. Claire just wanted to feel like she belonged somewhere, and Peter was the first person who made her feel like she wasn't alone – that she wasn't just a freak.

Claire needed to see Peter again because he was in danger, and everyone was concerned for him. She wondered – was he really going to blow up New York? Did Peter have that kind of power? She didn't know the answers; all she knew was that she had to save Peter – save him like he saved her. Maybe she could heal him and stop whatever was going to make him explode.

She just had to find a way.

After getting dressed and finishing a quick breakfast, she looked around the quiet apartment for Meredith. She went over to her bedroom door, and through the crack she could see her bio-mom still under the covers, snoring loudly. Stifling a giggle, Claire turned around slowly and crept down the hall to the front door.

Meredith had her flaws, but Claire was starting to get used to her. And no matter what, her bio-mom was still extremely sweet to her and very open. She was still a bit skittish about living here in New York, especially since her father was basically hiding them from people who wanted to do God knows what with them and their powers. Though, Meredith did seem to be relieved to be living with Claire, and she would catch her mother watching her for lengthy times and smiling affectionately. Claire couldn't imagine what she must have felt like knowing all those years she'd lost her daughter in a fire, only to have her turn up alive and well years later.

And Claire surmised, despite Meredith's good nature toward her, the woman still had secrets that Claire was sure she'd reveal in time – if she'd share them at all.

She stepped out onto their small porch, and she inhaled the crisp morning New York air. As usual, it was stale and smelled much ranker than Odessa, of course, but she'd get used to it, and she was actually starting to like living in the city.

Her mind flashed with thoughts of Isaac and she smiled. Remnants of last night's dream crept into her mind, and she flushed. Shaking her head, she tried to keep her focus, knowing full well that this was not the time for romance.

Claire knew it wasn't appropriate, not if there was a disaster on the way.

She hailed a cab, and within minutes one arrived and she was riding down the grey city streets toward Central Park. As the cabbie dropped her off to the destination, she eagerly looked around the crowds of morning New Yorkers for a sign of Peter's smooth black hair and dark eyes. It was almost impossible to pick out anyone in the hurried crowd, so she made her way over to a bench where pigeons were gathering around some breadcrumbs. She jumped in a start as crumbs seem to rain from the sky and onto the ground. When she turned around, she didn't see anyone there, but then Claire heard his voice.

"Claire." She could hear him but could not see him. She turned to her right, and then he materialized in front of her. Startled, she leaned back and stared at him with wide eyes.

"Peter… how did you?" He could heal and turn invisible too? What _else_ could he do? She licked her lips and stared at him in shock. A crooked smile erupted on his face as he stared at her with his intense eyes.

"I'm glad you could come meet me." He turned his body toward her, and his knee rubbed against hers. She inwardly melted to the touch, and then she had to remind herself again that he was related to her. She wondered if Peter knew about that tidbit too.

"Of course," she replied, looking down at her lap and smoothing out her jeans with her sweaty palms. "I have to go to work soon, but I certainly have time to see you…" She looked up and smiled, her eyes peering deeply into his. "Peter… I've been waiting to see you again for so long."

Peter smiled automatically. "I – I have too, Claire." They shared a silent moment, just staring at one another and making up for lost time. Claire knew that the first moment she met him there was something special between them, and she'd never before shared such a bond with anyone else in her life. And she had a feeling that Peter felt the same too.

"Listen," Peter said, cutting through their soft moment. "I had to see you again to warn you, Claire."

"I don't understand," Claire replied, and she put a hand on his arm. "Peter, people are looking for you. Simone and Nathan are worried, and Isaac's says you're in trouble …" Claire noticed the darkness in his eyes when she mentioned Isaac, but then she continued, "Peter… Are you really going to explode?"

He pursed his lips, and his face tensed in anger. Was he mad at Isaac? Or himself? "He's right, Claire," he finally responded. "I…I had a vision. I think I'm going to explode if I don't keep my powers under control."

Claire shook her head. "Why can't you keep your powers under control? How many powers do you have?"

He eyed her seriously. "Claire, I can take on any powers that I come in contact with. When I encounter another person like us, I can use their powers and mimic it. Then, it's stored somewhere inside me." He sighed heavily and then leaned against the back of the park bench, staring out into the crowd. "I'm too new at this, and I haven't figured out how to control it." He turned to her again and then grasped her shoulders lightly. "But I'm working on it. I've met someone that will help me control it… and hopefully it will work."

Claire put her hand over his, and she looked at him with a confident smile. "You will, Peter." And all the hope she'd ever felt for him had come out in her words. "I know you can. And if you need help, I'm here."

Peter smiled and some of the darkness lifted from his face. Suddenly, he crushed her body against his and murmured into her hair. "Thank you."

His touch was warm and far too intoxicating for her not to enjoy. She made herself sick inside gaining such pleasure from having her uncle hold her, and she tried desperately to tell herself that it didn't have to feel like this – that it shouldn't be like _this_, and that they were all working for the same goal. They would use their powers for good and not hurt people with them. Peter was doing that too, and Claire only wanted to help.

And she felt closer to him than anyone, so she knew she had to tell him. "Peter…do you know about me… and Nathan?"

Peter froze in their embrace, and he softly pulled apart from her touch. He looked at her curiously. "No… I know you mentioned him, but how do you know my brother, Claire? Did you meet him at Isaac's?"

Claire's lip quivered, and she gave her clueless uncle a weak smile. "Peter… Nathan is the one that brought me here to New York with my biological mother…"

"Biological…You mean Bennet isn't your real father?"

Claire sighed, looking away. She didn't know if she could handle the look in his eyes when she told him. "No…" she stuttered. Then, bravely, she looked up into his face and said, "Nathan's my real father, Peter. You're my…"

Suddenly his grip on her loosened and he was putting his hand over his mouth in shock. Claire could have sworn she heard someone say "Bloody hell" in the wind, but then she seemed more focused to Peter's reaction.

"I'm sorry… I know you might not believe me and it's a crazy situation, but it's true," Claire explained, going on as Peter couldn't say anything. "Apparently, my bio-mom and your brother had something going on about 15 years or so ago, and then came me. I was supposed to die in a fire, but with my healing abilities, that didn't happen." She paused, and then she got a sour look on my face. "My dad – Mr. Bennet – was told to take me in as his own until I was of age, then he was going to turn me back over to whatever company …"

"I know what company that is," Peter responded in a low voice. He turned away from her gaze and looked ahead again. There was anger in his eyes. "It's the same company that tried to kidnap Claude and me a couple days ago."

"Claude?"

"He's the invisible guy helping me," Peter clarified, and Claire gave him a nod.

Peter sighed and said, "This is all so … strange, Claire. I had no idea when I went to save you that you were…my niece." The moniker sounded strange in her ears, and Claire's blood turned cold again.

"I know," she replied. "It's just weird how things work out that way." She was trying to be positive about it. Hopefully, he would help make the situation easier by moving on.

Suddenly, Peter turned to her and took her hand. "Claire, I'm so sorry."

"What… you have nothing to apologize for," she said, appearing shock. What was he getting at? Peter squeezed her hands, and then he got a far away look in his eyes.

"To think… all this time I had a niece, and then I ended up saving her."

"Then, you're not…disturbed by it?" Claire asked. Of course, it would only make sense that _she_ was the only one infatuated here. With that, she really _did_ feel like a freak.

Peter laughed a little and then ran his hand through his hair. "I will admit to be a little surprised … and maybe a little bit…um…" He cleared his throat and looked away sheepishly. "Well, let's just say it's probably a good idea I not tell you that last thought."

Claire grinned brilliantly at him, taking in his meaning. Whatever he was getting it, she'd let herself believe that maybe he had a smidgen of the same thoughts she did during their first encounters. 'It's the bond; it has to be,' she thought to herself, still believing in that strange bond that they automatically shared.

"I'm glad… that you're my niece, Claire." He smiled affectionately at her and Claire leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I have another reason to protect you."

Claire laughed a little. She would have loved to stay in this moment for a long time if she had the chance. Finally she said, "Everyone wants to protect me. You, Meredith, Nathan, Isaac…yet I'm the indestructible one."

Quickly, Peter's mood changed, and he peered at Claire seriously. "Claire, you need to be careful of Isaac."

Claire cocked her head at him, eyes wide with shock. "Are… are you serious? I thought you and Isaac…"

Peter shook his head. "We've worked together. He was the reason I knew about you, but lately… I'd be careful of him, Claire. I will not deny that he's a good person, but sometimes he can be a bit misguided."

Claire leaned back from him, and she felt strangely betrayed in Isaac's place. It was true she had feelings for Isaac, and even though she was getting to know him, she couldn't believe that he'd have a dangerous bone in his body. He'd seem so noble and kind.

"What are you saying?" Claire shook her head. "No, I can't believe it. Peter, please tell me you don't seriously think Isaac could be bad."

Peter bit his lip and didn't answer her right away. "I don't think he'll hurt you, but … I have my reasons. Just be careful."

"I don't think you understand," Claire told him, and he was shocked by the empowered edge in her voice. "Nathan is the one who entrusted Isaac with me. He got me the job with Isaac. Obviously, your brother trusts him."

"Then Nathan doesn't know," Peter said automatically, the dark tones swirling in his eyes again. Peter knew something, but Claire was sure he was keeping it from her. What did Isaac do that concerned Peter? And why wouldn't he tell her? "Look, Claire, just be cautious. I know that some strange people are watching Nathan and Isaac, and they're watching my apartment as well."

"People," Claire answered, appearing confused. "These people don't have anything to do with that man who came after me at Homecoming, do they?"

Peter's face blanched, and he furrowed his brow. "Claire… what do you know about him?"

Claire's face was painted with fear. "Isaac painted him again, and he was coming after me again. He said it took place only a few blocks away from his studio."

Peter's eyes widened and he gripped onto Claire's shoulders. "Claire, why didn't you say something? You have to get a hold of Nathan now! He needs to get you out of here."

"Isaac wanted me to leave too, but I just had to see you again. I can't leave you alone if you're going to blow up. I need to be here for you," Claire pleaded desperately.

Peter shook his head. "No, I can handle this. I can't let you be exposed to that monster again. Please, Claire… tell Nathan to get you out of New York."

"But…"

Suddenly, her phone beeped. She looked down at the caller ID and tensed up. Quickly, she answered it. "Isaac? I know I'm running a little late but…"

Peter watched her closely as she talked to Isaac, and he saw her expression turn from worry to dread. Her face paled, and then she looked over at Peter, horrified.

"Okay, Isaac, I'll be right there…"

Claire slowly brought her phone down in her lap and looked at Peter with sympathy.

"What is it? Is something wrong?"

"Well," she hesitated. She had to turn away from his inquiring eyes. "Simone's been missing for a few days. Isaac said he was worried, that he had recently painted a scary portrait of her. When he was finally going to call in and file a missing person's report, the police had already contacted him."

Peter stood up abruptly from the bench, and he stared down at Claire, anxious and worried.

"I'm sorry, Peter. They found her body." Claire swallowed hard and whispered, "She's dead."

Hurt, anger, and sorrow flickered in his eyes as he clenched his jaw. "Then we have to go."

Looking over his shoulder momentarily, Peter grabbed her hand, and then they rushed off to Isaac's studio.


	7. Chapter 7

AN: I suck majorly for not updating. I can't help it! I've been writing Heroes porn (that you can find at my LJ writing journal)! And Isaac lives on in my fic! Remember this is an AU from "Distractions".

* * *

Girl in the Painting 

Chapter Seven

Claire was barely seconds behind Peter when he crashed through Isaac's studio and had the disoriented artist pinned up against the wall. She screamed, calling out for Peter to stop, only Peter's mind was somewhere else, and he just wouldn't listen to her.

"You!" Peter raged at Isaac, his power coming to the forefront. Claire's eyes darted around the studio, watching canvasses and brushes vibrating in response to Peter's power.

Isaac met Peter's gaze, his face pale and gaunt from extreme grief. Claire could tell that Isaac was ready to give up, letting Peter beat him and have his way with him.

"Stop it, Peter! Don't hurt him!" Claire shouted out, but Peter continued to ignore her, coming face-to-face with Isaac.

"You should have protected her!" Peter lashed at him. Isaac squirmed under Peter's telekinetic grasp, and then he leveled with Peter's hard stare.

"Where were _you_, man? You were her boy. She left me for _you_. Where were you when Sylar took her?" Isaac growled at him, anger rising in his tone.

"Sylar?" Peter asked. "What would Sylar want with her? She doesn't have anything he wants!"

"I don't know!" Isaac barked, squirming to get free. Peter grew increasingly angry, and just as the artist was about to break free, Peter threw him back again. Claire squeaked as she heard Isaac's head make a 'cracking' sound against the hard wall.

Peter exhaled heavily, the disdain still on his face. He grabbed Isaac's shirt, close to pounding his face. "You brought him here. With your deals with _them_, and God knows – with your deals with my brother and Dr. Suresh. He's coming right for you."

"How is this my fault?" Isaac asked in a choked sob. "How? You're the 'oh-so-great' Peter Petrelli, tell me what I should have done?" Peter wasn't expecting Isaac to fight back, and he didn't know how to respond to him. Instead, Isaac continued to meet him fiercely. "All I can do is paint, and even then, my paintings aren't always clear!"

Isaac chuckled, and Peter started to back down from him. "But you… you have all these amazing powers. Why didn't _you_ do something to save _your_ precious Simone?"

Peter's eyes fell to the floor, his face pale and blank. His powerful trap around Isaac diminished, and the artist's feet stood firmly on the floor. He met Peter challengingly and then poked a finger into his chest, pushing Peter backward. "Where were you, Super Boy?"

Peter's expression turned sour, and he looked torn. Inside, he could feel the weight of Isaac's words – that he was probably right. He did have all these powers, and he could even match Sylar if he wanted to – still, he was struggling to control his powers, and even Claude had said he wasn't ready yet.

Peter felt inept, knowing if he'd train more and been ready, he might have saved Simone. Peter might have saved both him and Isaac the heartache.

Finally Peter looked into Isaac's eyes, and then he glared at him. "This ends here, Isaac. I'm taking Claire, and you're never seeing her again."

"Wha… What? You can't do that!" Isaac snapped at him. "She's here under my protection by your brother's request."

"I will protect Claire from now on. I won't have you or your dealings bringing her the same fate as Simone."

"You…You bastard!" And as Peter prepared to walk away, Isaac lunged at him, punching Peter in the jaw. On instinct, Peter punched back, sending Isaac a psychokinetic wallop that propelled him backward against the wall. Disoriented, Isaac shook his head and then jumped on Peter, turning him around and punching him again in the stomach. Peter coughed, and then with a flick of his hand, sent Isaac back crashing into a table of brushes and media.

Since Isaac refused to stand down, it was Peter's turn to come after him, though unfairly, he attacked him with his abilities. Isaac felt resistance against his body, and Peter came after him with a hard stare. He grabbed the collar of Isaac's shirt, raising him high toward the ceiling, and letting him fall to the floor.

Claire was frantic, screaming and pleading for the two men to stop fighting. She saw Isaac wildly throw a cart table of bottles at Peter, which her uncle had eloquently dodged with his telekinetic powers. Isaac seemed desperate, full of rage and grief, desperate to redeem himself by making Peter pay in some way for the pain of Simone's death.

Peter was far more powerful than Isaac, and although she cared about Peter, Claire was scared of Peter's power and by the dark, determined look in his eyes.

"Peter, please… it's not fair! You're going to kill him!"

"Back off, Claire," Peter said in a low voice, echoing with a dark rumble. His voice chilled her to the bone. "This fight doesn't concern you."

Isaac was fueled with adrenaline, his nose and face bleeding after being tossed around by Peter's powers. He grabbed a broken tool in the fragments from the fight, and he lunged at Peter – instinct and survival on his mind.

Claire gasped, and she realized that this fight was never going to end unless someone got terribly hurt. Both Peter and Isaac had a lot of pent up hatred and anger toward each other, and Simone's murder was bringing it out in full force. She knew the only way to stop them was to step in and do something.

As Isaac moved to stab Peter, Claire jumped in front of Peter. His expression was calm and cool, and he was ready to dodge Isaac's attack with ease. When Claire stepped in to shield him, his eyes widened and his power fell loose from his fingers. Isaac couldn't stop himself either, and he felt the tool pierce her flesh. He froze and watched as blood gushed from Claire's abdomen, and then she was sent spiraling away from them by Peter's unbridled attack.

She slammed against the wall, the broken tool piercing even deeper into her body upon impact.

Peter and Isaac watched the scene with horror. Claire lay motionless among the debris against Isaac's studio wall, and suddenly, Isaac and Peter both ran to her.

"Claire!" Peter was the first to yell, and Isaac remained speechless, horrified to what he had done.

"Oh no…" Isaac whispered, looking at Claire's blood spilling out onto his hands. Isaac looked up to Claire's face, and her lip was busted her forehead dripping with blood.

Peter's hand hovered over the tool that had run clean through her stomach to her back, and he wondered if he should pull it out.

"Claire…" Isaac whispered, feeling horrible guilt and shame for hurting such a young, innocent girl who only wanted to stop them in their foolishness.

Suddenly, Peter's face lit up and they heard Claire coughing, slowly lifting herself up off her back. She stared blearily at the rusty tool impaled in her stomach, and with a pained grip, she removed it, tossing it aside. Isaac stared in fascination as the wound on her body began to repair itself quickly, and the gashes on her face had completely disappeared.

"Claire, are you alright?" Isaac asked. Peter was silent, beaming in relief at her regenerative powers.

Claire looked over at Isaac and then to Peter, glaring. When she sat up, she lifted her hand and slapped Isaac and then jabbed Peter in the stomach.

"You're both idiots!" Peter and Isaac looked at her in awe. Isaac rubbed his sore cheek, and Peter clutched his stomach, watching her push away from them. She stood up, and she angrily planted her hands on her hips. "How can you act like this? This isn't some grade school playground! You shouldn't be fighting with Sylar at large! Do you think Simone would have wanted you to act like this? I can't believe you did this to each other! We're on the same side, aren't we?"

Isaac said nothing, feeling the weight of Claire's words. Peter shot him a distrustful, knowing glare.

"Claire… I'm sorry this happened to you," Peter began. "There are a lot of things you don't know…"

"I don't care," Claire said, walking away and cleaning up some of the stuff around Isaac's studio. She didn't look at them, but she continued to talk. "All I know is that Sylar is killing people like us, and I know that I'm not on Sylar's side, and Isaac's not on Sylar's side." Claire turned around and stared at Peter. "I know you're not on Sylar's side. So I don't see the problem. I don't see how beating each other up and disgracing a dead woman's memory is justified."

Peter and Isaac both grimaced to her sage words. Claire turned around and continued with her work. Isaac began to rise from the ground, and Peter started walking toward her.

"Claire… come with me, and I'll explain everything."

She turned around, eyes flashing at Peter with anger. "I'm not leaving. I have work to do."

"Claire…"

"No, I'm staying here to help Isaac."

Isaac slightly warmed to Claire's intentions, but he felt a war raging inside himself. Peter was here, so no doubt he would have to contact both Bennet and Nathan with the information. It was true that Claire was probably safer with Peter, and since Simone's death, she was most definitely in more danger with him than hiding with Peter.

"Claire, you can't stay here. You need to be careful."

"No, I won't go," Claire responded stubbornly. She glared at Peter. "You should be the one that leaves, Peter."

Finally Isaac said, "You both should go."

Peter and Claire turned to him, and Claire looked at him with shock. Peter eyed him carefully, scrutinizing his expression.

"But Isaac," Claire pleaded, and she walked slowly toward him, a genuine look of concern on her face. "This place is a mess, and… don't you want someone to be here because of what happened to …?"

Claire's voice trailed off, and Isaac turned his gaze from her. He appeared cold and distant. He crossed his arms and stared at the floor. "Please, just both of you leave me alone."

"But…"

Peter took Claire's arm lightly, directing her to the door. She couldn't turn her eyes away from Isaac as she saw the suffering etched on his face. Deep inside, she wanted to be here for him while he mourned. She wanted to pick up the pieces, not just from the brawl in his studio, but the broken pieces of his heart. And where Peter's power had overtaken him, she wanted to be here for him in case he felt small, weak, and out of control.

She wanted to reassure him that Simone's death was not his fault.

When she wouldn't budge, Isaac turned to her and in a strangled cry he yelled, "Just go, Claire. Just go!"

Claire's mouth shut tightly and tears formed in her eyes. She began to cry, and then she broke from Peter's grasp, dashing through the open door. Peter ran to the door, hoping to catch up with her. Before he left, he looked back at Isaac and gave him a dangerous glare.

"Don't you dare hurt her again, or I swear I'll kill you," Peter threatened, and then he disappeared swiftly down the stairs, catching up to Claire.

--

"Claire, wait!" Peter called out, finally catching up to her. She stopped on the streets, and he watched her from behind.

"I'm sorry, Claire. I'm sorry you got involved in that. I didn't want to hurt you."

"It's okay. I'm not hurt." She turned around and gave him a weak smile. "I can't get hurt, remember?"

Peter grabbed her arms and then looked at her sternly. "Claire, that's not what I meant and you know it. I know you can heal from stuff like that. I was talking about… getting hurt in other ways."

Claire looked down at the sidewalk and away from his compassionate gaze. She felt tears brimming on her eyes, and she desperately wanted them to stop – to be strong in front of Peter.

"Claire, you need to listen to me when I say be careful of Isaac. He's not what you think."

"Can you just stop it already about Isaac? I'm tired of it," Claire replied sighing, wiping the tears from her eyes. She broke from Peter's grasp and turned around. "Just take me home, Peter. I want to see my mom." Claire let out a weak laugh and said, "As crazy as she is, I think I need to see her now."

"Claire…" Peter said, coming up from behind her and then embracing her. She fell back into him, muffling a cry. Peter sighed against her hair and then released her. "Alright, let's go."

He walked ahead, and Claire followed behind him as they went to hail a cab.

--

"Yes, it's me again," Isaac said, sliding his fingers through his unkempt hair. "I needed to talk to you immediately."

Isaac looked around the war-torn studio as he talked on the phone, and then he sighed. "Peter Petrelli is still in New York, and he was just here today, unstable as ever."

Isaac paused, listening to the response on the receiver. He responded, "And I did more paintings. Claire's in danger, and Sylar is coming after her again.

"You'd better come up with something quick." Isaac got a worried look I his eyes, and he felt pain bubble in his stomach. He did not want Claire to end up like Simone, or even worse, with her head cut open and her powers in that madman's control.

Finally he said, "You need to get here and bring help, Bennet. I simply can not protect her all by myself."


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Remember this is AU from "Distractions", so the events that took place in those episodes afterward don't really matter, and anything else I use is for my story only. Thanks for the support!

* * *

Girl in the Painting

Chapter Eight

The next morning when Claire went to work at Isaac's, she refused to speak to him. Isaac didn't say anything either, supposing he deserved her silence and angry glares. Instead, she stomped around his studio, cleaning up the mess from the previous day. Isaac tried not to watch her, but once in awhile he would give her a sympathetic glance, wishing he could come up with an apology she'd accept.

After too much silence, Claire slammed the rag down on the floor in a huff. She was on her hands and knees scrubbing a pile of caked oil paint with Orange Goop and paint thinner. Finally when the work began to annoy her, she stood up and placed her hands on her hips, staring at Isaac.

"You called my dad, didn't you?" Claire asked, and Isaac felt his blood freeze. Did Claire know he called Bennet, or was she referring to his call to Nathan?

"I …" Isaac stuttered, but she wouldn't let him finish.

"Nathan's moving us again, and Peter agreed with him. Nathan's sending Meredith and me to Paris to hide out until the election is over and until Sylar has been dealt with."

Isaac almost sighed in relief, not knowing how Claire would react if she knew about his dealings with Bennet. Not that Bennet was out to hurt her; all of them were working for Claire's best interests and above all, her protection.

"Claire, I know you're upset, but it's the only way to keep you safe."

"I don't _need_ to be kept safe. And Meredith can handle her own too. I wish people would stop treating me like some damsel in distress! It's not like I can get hurt…"

Isaac walked over to her, grasping her arms and looking into her eyes. "Claire, I've seen the future. As indestructible as you think you are, there was a future where Sylar did hurt you." Isaac sighed and looked away from her, and Claire's anger transformed into fear. Claire seemed confused, and he hoped ensuring her safety would ease her frustration. "Claire, I don't want to see the future where Sylar has killed you."

Claire didn't say anything at first, and instead she relaxed in his grasp. She looked up into his eyes and said, "Okay, but I'm not going because I want to. I feel I can do some good here against the fight with Sylar."

Isaac gave her a small smile and released his hands from her shoulders. He said, "You know your father would never agree to that, and I would side with him."

Claire nodded, and she walked away from him over to the kitchen for a break. She opened Isaac's fridge and pulled out a soda, plopping herself down on his stool. She turned on the TV, and her eyes widened.

A breaking story had appeared on the news, and more horrendous murders were being reported. The method of the murders was splattered all over the TV screen, but the reporters had no information on the identity of the killer – or the F.B.I. had wanted to keep it that way.

As two people were confirmed dead with their heads sliced open, Claire and Isaac both knew who was responsible.

Isaac cleared his throat, and he came up behind Claire. "Sometimes… sometimes I'm scared for myself when I see what he does."

Claire turned around, noticing the dread in his eyes. Isaac added, "One day I have this feeling he's going to come after me too."

Claire looked to the floor, understanding that Isaac had a right to fear Sylar. He wanted to steal their powers for himself, and Sylar showed no remorse for those he killed, either for their power or for those who got in his way.

She shivered, not liking the idea that Sylar might murder Isaac. If she could be killed, the cheerleader who was indestructible, what did that mean for Isaac? His role in this grand scheme was small, and he hid away in his loft painting the dire images of the future. And a power like Isaac's in Sylar's hands …

She swallowed uncomfortably. She didn't want to think of it, but it didn't take a genius to surmise that Sylar could find anyone with powers. He could even foretell his own future, and if someone were going to kill him, he could work to prevent it. He could do almost anything he wanted to manipulate his future.

Claire put a comforting hand on Isaac's arm. She felt goose bumps on her skin, and anxiety swelled in her body for what she was about to ask him.

"Come with us, Isaac," she responded in a low voice. She squeezed his arm as he gaped, stunned that she would ask it. However, Claire was very serious. Her eyes didn't waver, and she watched him with hope. "Come to Paris with me."

Isaac shook his head. He was surprised, and more than anything, flattered that she was concerned for him. But he didn't feel his life was as important as hers.

"Claire… I can't. I … you and your mother are way more worthy of protection than …"

"Stop thinking that already! I'm tired of it!" Claire snapped at him, and once again, Isaac was taken aback by her fortitude.

Claire stood up to face him with her eyes blazing. "Look, I can't have you putting yourself down all the time. What if I'm in Paris and Sylar takes you? How do you think I will feel when I find out you're dead?" Tears welled up in her eyes and she bit her lip. She asked him softly, "Don't you even care about your own life?"

Isaac could feel her warm breath against his neck as she spoke to him. His heart pounded rapidly as she leaned in close, not sure what to make the feelings rising up in his blood. He lifted up a hand, brushing away a stray blonde tendril that had fallen over her face.

Claire inhaled a quick draught of breath as his fingers grazed her skin, pushing the hair behind her ear. She felt his gaze on her, so she looked away, afraid she might lose herself within his eyes.

And in an instant, she felt herself coming closer to him, his arm snaking around her back and her face against his chest. Claire closed her eyes, and Isaac looked away briefly before he took her into an embrace.

Suddenly, he pulled back, distancing himself from her and then slinking to the kitchen. His eyes roamed over the stack of papers on his counter to a picture of Simone cut out of the obituaries. Momentarily, he felt sick to his stomach, and he couldn't believe he had almost touched Nathan's daughter – and not too soon after his ex-girlfriend's death.

Claire felt dazed, standing in the same spot as she registered that Isaac had pulled away from her. She tried not to be surprised, and she had known all along that despite her growing feelings, what she felt for Isaac was probably not right – and if anything, ill timed.

She glanced over to him, trying to see that maybe he had feelings for her as well. However, when Claire's eyes roamed over the stack of papers of Simone, she wondered if he felt anything toward her at all.

She frowned, and she wouldn't allow herself to cry just yet. Glaring at the picture of Simone for a second, she felt a flash of jealousy before shaking the feelings off, and Claire intended to get back to work.

'It's just as well Isaac is still hung up on Simone,' she thought, and she almost hated herself for thinking badly of a dead woman – a woman that Isaac obviously deeply loved.

Claire turned around ready to go back to her job, but then Isaac stopped her.

"I wish I could go to Paris with you," he said, his eyes still watching Simone's picture on the table. Claire turned around, and the fear had returned to his eyes. She walked over to him, glancing at the stack of papers with him. Underneath Simone's obituary, Claire noticed a paper containing her address, number to her lawyer's, and a reminder note to talk about the will, which Isaac obviously was involved in.

"Isaac… I'm sure you still can," Claire said, putting a hand up. He turned away from her abruptly, pacing the kitchen.

"No…" he replied sternly. He looked into her eyes and said, "I admit it. I'm scared, and I'd love nothing more to run away from him… with you and your mom to Paris." He slammed his hand on his counter, making Claire jump. "But if I ran away from him, what kind of man would I be?"

Claire didn't say anything, watching Isaac as he became emotional. He turned around to the TV, still reporting on the murders, and then he said with a strange laugh, "Peter was her hero, you know." The room felt thicker as he said those words, and Claire knew what he was getting at. "She thought I was some delusional junkie. Hell, she didn't even believe I could paint the future, not at first. She didn't believe I had a gift. But when Peter came around and he told her he had powers, she believed him." He turned around to face Claire, and she saw a deep agony etched on his face – the same agony she saw before Peter whisked her away yesterday. "I need to face Sylar. I need to face him and prove that I can be a hero. I want to meet the man that took Simone and face him. Wherever Simone is now, I want her to see that I can do that."

"Isaac…no…" Claire felt fear rise in her belly and then she shook her head. "You'll be killed. You can't… Isaac, please."

But his mind had been made up. "No, Claire. I don't care if he kills me." And as he said that, Claire rushed over to him. She cornered him against the sink, and he watched in surprise as she cried for him, unrelenting in her will to change his mind.

She reached up a hand and cupped his cheek. "Please…"

"Claire…" He put his hand over hers and smiled. "I'm doing this so he can take me instead of you. You and I both know he knows about this place and that he's been watching us. The paintings are proof of that. You'll have a chance to get away, Claire."

She shook her head, and he trailed a finger down her cheek, wiping away her tears.

"You can't," she choked out, her head pressing against his chest.

Isaac felt the young girl embrace him fiercely, holding onto him as if he was going to die right there. He smiled weakly and pulled her into his warmth, embracing her back.

"Don't worry, maybe I'll survive. We still have to see how that painting comes out. You remember it, right?"

Claire sniffled, nodding against him. "Yeah, the commando-painting." Isaac laughed at the moniker, and then rested his lips against the top of her head. Claire stilled in his arms, and slowly she tilted her head to look into his face.

Both of them were trapped in the moment, feeling sounds buzz to a mute around them. Isaac traced his hand lightly over her cheek as Claire moved closer, staring at him as he licked his lips.

"Hey…" Isaac whispered, his warmth fanning her face.

"Hey…" Claire responded in turn, almost jovially as she neared him.

Their lips touched lightly before they were startled apart, a loud rapping against Isaac's door.

Both Claire and Isaac jumped back, and Isaac looked curiously at the door as Claire froze, flushed and wide-eyed from the interruption.

"Coming!" Isaac called out, and he squinted through the smoky window to see who was there. Heaven help them if it was Sylar, only Isaac didn't appear that worried when he saw an outline of glasses.

'Damn,' he thought, and he gave Claire a nervous backward glance before he opened the door. 'This is not going to go well; I just know it.'

"What is it?" Isaac asked him harshly after swinging the door open. As expected, Bennet invited himself in, rushing through the doorway. He met Claire's eyes, and she seemed just as surprised to see him.

"Daddy?" she squeaked out. She stared at him with astonishment, and she backed herself away from him as he began to inch toward her.

He smiled with adoration upon seeing her. He watched her as a father who'd lost his child and was now being reunited. "Claire-bear…"

Claire shut her eyes tightly with tears squeezing from her eyes. She looked over to her dad, shaking her head, and then she turned to Isaac. His blood stilled as she glared at him with such betrayal.

"What… what is he doing here? I trusted you!"

Isaac put his hands up to calm her down, and he said lightly, "Now, Claire. It's not what you think."

Bennet and Isaac were both cautious to keep her from getting the wrong idea.

"Claire, I'm not taking you to the company, if that's what you think. Honey, I've been on the run from them for a while… I'm trying to protect you."

She looked to Isaac, waiting for an excuse from him. Isaac spoke, "I'm sorry, Claire. When your father broke from the company, he asked for my help."

She didn't seem convinced. She looked back and forth from Isaac to her dad, and then she pushed through him, dashing through the door.

Both of them called out her name, and Isaac began to charge after her. Bennet held him back, and Isaac glared at him as they both saw Claire dart away down the streets of New York.

"What are you doing? We have to go after her!" Isaac screamed, pushing Bennet away.

"Now Mr. Mendez, calm down. We can find her, but we have to think this through rationally."

"Rationally? What are you even doing here? You know how she feels about you, and you know she works here. By being here you might have put her into even more danger!" Isaac yelled at him.

Bennet was still calm as Isaac lashed at him, and finally he answered, "I'm sorry, I had to see her." He paused, and then said, "Also, I came to get her. It's taken me some time to gather up my resources, but I feel I can best protect her."

"What can you do that Nathan Petrelli can't?"

"I have the Haitian. He can mask out Sylar's powers if he comes to harm her."

Isaac exhaled heavily and rolled his eyes. He leaned against the wall and gritted his teeth. He could sympathize with Claire now as everyone fawned over her, trying to protect her. He'd probably run away too.

"Well, she's gone, exposed to Sylar in New York, so who's going to protect her now?"

Bennet pursed his lips and said, "We still are. We'll find her before Sylar does, and when we bring her back, I'll take her."

"You'll have to duke it out with Nathan Petrelli on that one," Isaac finally replied. "I don't want any part of some strange custody battle. I just want to find Claire."

And as Isaac began to leave his loft, Bennet stopped him again. "You'll stay here. You don't even know where she's going."

"And you do?" Isaac challenged him. Bennet looked out the window toward the direction where Claire ran.

"My associate is probably trailing her. She'll no doubt try to contact Peter Petrelli again," Bennet surmised, and Isaac turned around, trying to hide his obvious expression of exasperation as Bennet said Peter's name.

"So what am I supposed to do? Just sit here and do nothing?" He turned around again and looked Bennet in the eyes. "I care about Claire too."

Bennet didn't flinch. Instead, he gave Isaac a mysterious smile and then said, "Then do what you do best. Paint." Isaac looked at him curiously as Bennet walked away. Finally he concluded, "See if you can paint Claire's future, Mr. Mendez, and hopefully it'll give us a clue to where she's going. Call me when you've got something."

The door slammed behind Bennet, and Isaac punched the wall, crying in frustration.

'That's all I ever do, isn't it? I'm just the guy who paints!' he thought to himself, and before he would allow himself to be defeated, he was reminded that Claire was out there and in danger.

With determination rising on his face, Isaac faced a blank canvas. He pursed his lips, and filled his mind with derring-do, hoping and praying for the power to save Claire.

He couldn't let her down, not like he did Simone. He wouldn't lose someone else close to him to Sylar. Eden, Simone – they were both gone. Isaac had very precious few in his life, and the ones he did have, he would fight to keep. He would ensure their safety.

And he cared about Claire. She couldn't die. She just couldn't.

He closed eyes tightly, and he thought of Claire's sweet face, flirting with him and rewarding him with her innocent laugh.

'Claire, I won't let you die. I'll find you,' he thought to himself. 'I won't lose someone else that's important to me.'

He opened his eyes, and they became glazed over with white, his power surging within him.

And before he brought brush to canvas, he thought of Claire one more time before the power completely took him over.

'I'm falling for you, Claire,' he thought, and then dark, muddied red bled onto white.


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Remember this is AU from "Distractions", so the events that took place in those episodes afterward don't really matter, and anything else I use is for my story only. Thanks for the support!

* * *

Girl in the Painting

Chapter Nine

Eyes wide and free of white, Isaac Mendez jarred back into reality. When he came to, his eyes roamed the studio in awe, gazing at the myriad paintings his powers had produced. He stood up, roaming his studio and looking over each painting methodically, checking for clues among the dire and vague predictions each one evoked.

Some of the paintings frightened him, for his own sake and for others. One canvas seemed completely drenched in blood, the look of horror on his face as his own skull was sliced open. And next to it was the scariest painting of them all.

Claire's eyes were wide with fright, looking away from the viewer. Her body lay mangled on the ground, and her head was cut open at the top. She was contorted and sprawled before a familiar background, and Isaac swallowed hard when he realized just where she would die.

'Simone's apartment...' he thought to himself, and he wondered what the hell would possess her to go there. What connection did Claire have to Simone's former apartment? What did Claire hope to find if she went there?

Isaac pursed his lips and already knew the answer. _Peter..._

Quickly, he shoved the paintings aside and looked for his cell phone. Mr. Bennet was already on speed dial, and after he dialed the number, Isaac heard him immediately pick up.

"Mr. Bennet!" Isaac spoke in a hurried tone. "I know where Claire is going." Isaac could almost feel the other man smiling on the other end of the phone line. Mr. Bennet had been right; Isaac was very useful for one thing - painting.

"She's going to Simone Deveaux's apartment in Manhattan. Yeah, I think she's going to look for Peter Petrelli since he's connected to her," Isaac responded quickly. He paused, listening to Bennet's instructions on the other line.

"No, I'm coming out there. I'll meet you." He paused again, looking forward as Bennet talked to him. Momentarily, Isaac tuned out whatever the man said. Obviously, Bennet had felt it unnecessary for Isaac to endanger himself for Claire's sake. Isaac didn't feel it was unnecessary at all.

"I care about Claire too, and I'm coming whether you like it or not!" Isaac switched off the phone and prepared to leave. Before he could dash out the door, he looked around for a heavy blunt weapon. It was probably silly to think he could use just any normal weapon against Sylar. Hell, a gun might not even work against Sylar's barrage of powers. However futile it was, Isaac needed something to protect himself and Claire; he was desperate.

He picked up a Louisville Slugger that was hidden in the corner. He never used it for much, mostly just to hit softballs to the local poor kids when he needed a break from painting. Though, since he'd been preoccupied with his future paintings, he hadn't much time for a break, so the bat sat in the corner collecting dust. Tonight he hoped it would be useful in stopping Sylar's wrath on Claire.

Isaac glanced over at his paintings once more before he left. His eyes roamed over the painting of Claire dead in front of Simone's apartment, and he bit his lip. His eyes raged with fury and he would not let her die. He would not lose another important person in his life, and wherever Simone was in her afterlife, he wanted to prove to her that he could be a hero.

The other paintings screamed at him, jarring him out of his thoughts. The dire painting with his own skull sliced open was not a fate he expected, not since he'd painted Claire older and smiling at him in his studio. He wondered if the future could really change that much, and maybe some paintings would become obsolete. Was it his fate to be Sylar's prey? Was that the cost of proving he was finally a hero?

Isaac put the bat down, leaning it against the doorframe. He walked slowly over to the painting of his foretold death, and he moved it behind old paintings that he'd discarded. He wasn't sure exactly why he was hiding it; it was his fate and he shouldn't be afraid. However, the thought of Claire seeing the painting and becoming scared tore him up inside. He knew that she would be sad if she ever saw that painting, and though it warmed him to know someone cared that much, he did not want the painting to cause her pain.

She had enough pain in her life to deal with, and he didn't want her to waste her time worrying about him. He knew that once he saved her, he would spend as much time as he could with her - his precious, openhearted Claire.

He picked up the bat, and glanced back at his studio once more. Locking up, he dashed swiftly down the stairs hoping to catch a cab to Simone's apartment. He prayed that he'd make it in time.

--

He watched her, his pretty little indestructible kitty-cat, running down the streets of New York to Manhattan. He followed her, and finally she stopped in front of the art dealer's apartment right where he wanted her.

He lingered in the backdrop like a creature of the night, waiting and watching as she moved inside the cage where he would trap her. He tapped his fingers on his thighs, eager to touch that soft, youthful skin and pry his fingers through her skull, dipping through the masses and into the secrets of her insatiable gifts.

Her screams would ring inside his sensitive ears like tribal music, and he would smile when she took her last breath at his feet. And he would break her and take her, making her forever his - molding her one delight into the frame of his being.

--

After she started running, her mind buzzed on auto-pilot, and all she could think about was seeing Peter again - hoping he would comfort her in desperate times just as he always had. She didn't know exactly where to start looking for him; he had told her he'd been training with an invisible man named Claude and they were hiding from her Dad's company - former company if her dad was telling the truth.

Simone was the only clue she had of Peter's whereabouts. Even though Claire had only met her a couple of times, Simone had been an icon - for both Peter and Isaac. The two men loved her unconditionally, and she had been pillar of strength for both of them. Claire could not deny her envy of the woman; even after her death, she couldn't help it. Isaac and Peter knew Simone before they'd known Claire existed. There was so much she didn't know about Simone, so Claire could only assume she was an amazing woman to hold the hearts of such amazing men.

She tiptoed quietly outside Simone's apartment. She looked around, noticing that people still lived on this floor despite the room being tagged for investigation. Hesitantly, she reached out her hand to open the doorknob, yet she stopped herself and realized she shouldn't leave fingerprints if the door was unlocked. She took off her small jacket and turned the knob with her sleeve. Luckily for her, the door was unlocked, and she wondered if that was a good sign that Peter had already been there.

After she had opened the door, Claire ducked under the middle line of police tape as she pushed it above her head. As she looked around the vacant apartment, an eerie feeling rose in her body and her blood ran cold. God, she hoped Peter was here; this place was creepy enough, and when she thought about it, she couldn't believe she was actually wandering around a dead woman's apartment.

"Hello?" she called out in a voice just above a whisper. She looked around, walking quietly through the living room and toward the kitchen. Claire noticed that Simone had lived lavishly, and her upscale apartment had screamed of a high-class life. Beautiful, loved, successful - those were definitely things that any woman would want, even Claire. She didn't feel bad about envying Simone; Claire knew she was still young and had plenty of time to have those things. She was already on her way; she'd already gained the love and respect of her uncle, and she was sure Isaac was learning to care for her as well.

'Isaac...' Thinking of the painter again interrupted her thoughts as she wandered around the apartment. Claire felt bad for leaving her dad and Isaac so abruptly. The more she thought about it, the more it was obvious that the two men had tried to explain things to her. Additionally, she wondered that maybe running away into streets when a killer was on the loose hadn't been such a good idea.

'A killer that would benefit the most from your power,' she told herself, and she froze as the room suddenly felt creepier. It was almost as if someone was watching her.

"Peter?" she asked, hoping that maybe her uncle was invisible in the shadows, waiting to reveal himself to her. But wouldn't he have done that already?

She quickened her pace, stepping back toward the door. The shadows on the wall loomed above her, suffocating her in black as clouds blanketed the moonlight outside the large window. She blinked her eyes, desperate for her night vision to kick in as shapes and movements manifested like monsters in her mind. Claire swallowed uncomfortably, reaching out her hand for the doorknob. She quickly glanced behind her to the shadows on the wall.

She froze when her hand touched a scratchy material rather than the metal from the knob. She turned around quickly, jumping back as a figure towered over her. Her eyes widened, and she knew she was in trouble. She cursed herself for running away. Idly she thought that she'd love to tell Isaac he was right all along, and that she was sorry for ignoring his warnings.

The figure smirked at her though the darkness, and he took a large step toward her. A shadow was cast over his face from the ball cap on his head, but she knew exactly who he was.

"Hello, Claire."

She moved backward, making contact with the wall. He kept coming after her, and she felt paralyzed, like there was nowhere for her to run.

Claire screamed.

--

As soon as Sylar had lifted his finger to make the incision in Claire's skull, he felt muzzy and began to sweat as he struggled to tap into his powers. For many times he could use them with ease, but some outside source was making this simple act much harder. He looked at Claire curiously, wondering if she was the reason his powers had stalled. She appeared as frightened as ever, and she seemed ignorant to what was going on. Was someone here using a different power against him? He looked around frantically, abandoning Claire momentarily as the door kicked opened and barely jumping out of the way as a bullet grazed his shoulder.

Sylar gritted his teeth, and he backed up toward Claire who was already on her feet, moving away from him. He met the gazes of a familiar meddler and a powerful tall dark-skinned man. He stared at the man who was obviously dampening his cognitive powers, and he started to lunge for him. Thankfully, he could still tap into his ice powers, and he planned to immobilize him to regain his telekinesis once more.

"Claire!" yelled Mr. Bennet, and suddenly she ran toward him. Anger swelled within him as his prey started getting away again. He would make them all pay in order to get to her.

"Dad!" she leapt into his arms, whispering apologies and crying against his chest. He stroked her hair and told her everything was going to be all right. Sylar glared at their interaction, silently vowing that he would make sure Claire never felt safe again.

He turned his attention back to the large man nullifying his powers, and he whipped his hand toward him, calling forth the ice. His opponent had barely dodged the blast, and he fell against Claire and her father farther into the art dealer's apartment. Sylar came toward them all as they moved away from him, and he tried to trap them inside, blocking the doorway to escape.

Claire's dad pointed his gun at him, yet Sylar moved back, unsure if his powers could dodge a bullet at this point. Bullets flew toward him and Sylar erected an ice shield in front of him. He blasted an onslaught of icicles at Bennet, knocking the gun away and piercing his hand. Claire screamed as her dad recoiled back from his injury. Sylar turned his attention back to Bennet's partner, and as the man started to come toward him, a rising headache became more painful as the man came closer. What was his power anyway? Sylar forced himself to deal with the pain, and all he could think about was how wonderful it would be to have this man's power once he killed him.

"Look out!" screamed Claire, and Bennet's associate barely dodged a large icicle aimed at his chest. He toppled over in pain as the ice shard stuck out of his shoulder. Sylar could feel his powers returning once the man had lost concentration. Confidently, Sylar walked out from behind his ice shield and sauntered over to them in their defeat. He had complete advantage over them now, and soon he would gain two powers and dispose of one his most hated enemies, Mr. Bennet.

"It's time to tell your father goodbye, Claire," Sylar said standing over them, and he used his returning telekinetic powers to immobilize both Bennet and his injured associate. Claire looked up at him in fear, and when he pointed his finger at her, she closed her eyes as she felt pain searing in her forehead.

This was it. She was never going to see Isaac or Peter again, nor was she going to be able to make up with her Dad and get to know her bio-dad. She was never going to see how Isaac's painting of her came into play.

Suddenly she heard a crack, and she opened an eye hesitantly to see what was going on. Sylar began doubling over in front of her, and his eyes widened as he was taken off guard from behind. He faltered, catching his balance and moving away toward the window to see who had come up behind him.

Claire's head shot up, and she met Isaac's gaze. He was holding a bat and smiling at her, appearing out of breath after running up the stairs to save her. Her mouth gaped, and she realized that Isaac had just saved all of their lives.

But they were still in danger; Sylar was disoriented, but he was still standing. Claire looked to her side, and her father and the Haitian were still propped against the wall with his power holding them back. She whipped her attention back at Isaac and saw him squaring off with Sylar, who glared at Isaac with fury.

"So you think you can be a hero?" Sylar lashed at him.

Isaac stood his ground, and he saw Claire in the corner of his eye. He motioned his hand and told her, "Claire, get them out of here. You need to get away. I'll hold him off as long as I can."

"What can you do! You're just a painter!" Sylar raged at him, his power coming back in full force. Claire screamed as Sylar threw Isaac against the wall. She stood up, looking to Sylar and Isaac. Isaac was barely conscious, shaking the stars from his eyes as Sylar came after him. Isaac hadn't really saved them; he had just prolonged their inevitable deaths.

And now he was in danger too.

'Oh, Isaac,' she thought mournfully. She understood him, now more than ever. Isaac had struggled for so long to be a hero in Simone's eyes. He had just wanted her to accept him for who he was. He wanted others to see that his gift had not been a curse but a means to help people. He just wanted people to see he could do more than just paint.

'I see that, Isaac," Claire thought, and suddenly vigor surged through her veins. She knew she had to do something. She couldn't always be the cheerleader who needed to be saved. And since Peter wasn't here, she had to step up herself.

Before Sylar could come toward Isaac, she sprinted toward him. He saw her moving in the corner of his eye, and he snapped his attention toward her. Before he could think, she had slammed into him, crashing them through the window with all her momentum. As she fell, she pushed down as hard she could, hoping gravity would help with the rest. She heard Isaac's protests from above as she fell, and she forced herself to ignore the sting of the glass that embedded into her skin.

Sylar was disoriented, and he yelped as they fell, trying to break free from her. She grabbed onto his shoulders hard and pushed them further down. When they finally made contact with the pavement, she lost her strength and blacked out over Sylar's unconscious body.

Her powers kicked in quickly, and when she came to, Sylar was groaning underneath her. She began to panic, and ignoring the pained cries of her bones and muscles, she leapt off his body and began to run away. She saw Isaac with her Dad and the Haitian coming out of the front entrance of the apartment building. Elation filled her body as she saw their alive faces, and she ran into Isaac's arms for a tight, relieved embrace.

"Claire!" And she felt both Isaac and her father embrace her, cocooning her in their body heat and strength. She could feel the love in their embrace, and she knew they had been scared for her, even when her body had completely healed.

Though when she turned around to warn them about Sylar, he was already gone.

"He escaped," she murmured, and the four of them looked into the distance down the dark streets of Manhattan.

"It's okay," Isaac said, running his fingers through her hair. "At least you're safe."

Claire turned to him, and she felt her father move back, balancing his injured friend and watching their interaction. Claire ignored the look on her father's face as she approached Isaac, but it was obvious she had feelings for the painter.

"You saved me. You came and saved me," Claire whispered, the words sounding incredible as they passed through her lips. She smiled at him and touched his cheek. "I knew you were a hero, Isaac."

Isaac gave her father a nervous glance and then fell back into her enamored eyes. "Yeah," he replied awkwardly. He began scratching the back of his head nervously, chuckling as she stared at him. He looked up at her and said resolutely, "Claire, after you left, I did a painting where he killed you. I knew I could never allow a future like that to come true."

She nodded, unsure what to say to him. He had saved her nobly, and she was sure there weren't any words that existed the world to express her gratitude. She only wished she could thank him without using words.

"I need to take care of our injuries. There's a contact I have in a local Catholic Hospital," Mr. Bennet chimed in, interrupting their moment. Isaac met the man's gaze, and noticed that he had put a tight squeeze on his shoulder. "Please, Mr. Mendez, take her somewhere safe and protect her. Call Petrelli and make sure he knows the situation so he can help her."

Isaac nodded. "I understand."

Before Mr. Bennet could limp off with his partner, Claire stopped him and gave him a giant hug. "Dad, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I ran away." She hugged her father tightly, and reveled in his scent, the fatherly scent that she had missed for too long. "I promise I won't ever run away from you again."

"I know, Claire-bear. I know," he told her soothingly.

"I love you, Dad."

"I love you too." And as she watched her father and the Haitian leave to hail a cab, Isaac took her hand and squeezed it tightly. She turned around and looked at his gentle face. He looked relieved and content that she was okay. He tugged at her arm to follow him down the street, and she looked at him curiously.

"Come on, I'm going to take you back to my place. Then we're going to call Nathan. I'll have him send over some protection."

"Okay," she agreed, but she still seemed bothered by something. She looked anxiously at the shadows on the New York streets and then asked him, "Isaac, do you think he'll come back?"

Isaac paused and then he gave her an honest reply. "I think as long as he's alive he'll always come back, Claire. But now he's injured, and the next time, we'll be ready for him." He gave her a hopeful smile and squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Even if I have to paint a million paintings, I'll do my part and be ready to take him down."

Claire bounced with excitement, releasing his hand and taking his arm, pulling him closer to her. "And I'll be right there beside you."

To Be Continued...


	10. Chapter 10

AN: This chapter contains very mild adult themes with an underage fictional character. Please be warned.

* * *

Girl in the Painting

Chapter Ten

After Isaac got off the phone with Nathan, he assured Claire that her father was sending people over for their protection until she saw Mr. Bennet again.

"Don't worry, Claire. Nathan is taking care of everything."

Claire shrugged her shoulders and gave Isaac a weak smile. Obviously, she didn't feel safe enough, but was glad Isaac was trying to help. "Okay. Hopefully whoever Nathan sends can stand up to Sylar if he comes after us again."

Isaac nodded and looked off through the window thoughtfully. "That fall might have injured him a lot. It'll be awhile before he tries again. Hopefully you'll be in Paris by then."

Claire frowned after he said that, and he inwardly winced when he saw disappointment in her eyes. "I don't want to go to Paris. I want to stay here."

Isaac sat down beside her on the sofa, and he put a hand on her shoulder and said, "You have to, Claire. Or all of this fighting to save you would be in vain."

She broke away from his gaze and stared at her hands in her lap. She fidgeted with her fingers and answered, "What if he follows me to Paris?"

"I don't know, but there's a chance he won't find out. I know that Nathan and his mother have connections to keep you safe from Sylar. I don't know what those connections are, but if they are going to help us, we have no choice but to trust them."

Claire turned to him and asked pleadingly, "You're coming to Paris with me, right?"

Isaac dropped his hand from her shoulder, reluctant to answer. He wanted to be truthful with Claire, especially after what had happened with Sylar. He valued Claire too much in his life to keep things from her now. "No. I can't. I promised Nathan and Bennet that I would help them as long as I can. I know it seems like all I do is paint here, but I do believe my paintings can help stop against Sylar - and even more importantly to prevent against Peter exploding."

When Claire heard Peter's name, her attention piqued and she'd almost forgotten about him during the fight with Sylar. Her eyes widened when she remembered that the only danger wasn't Sylar, and if Peter didn't get a hold of his powers, he could destroy millions of people. She spoke to Isaac in desperate tones, "Peter's going to gain control isn't he? Do you really think he's going to explode?"

Isaac bit his lip. His anxiety heightened at the way Claire reacted to Peter's name. Obviously, she was still very close to him, uncle or not, and he tried to keep his jealousy at bay. Even though he had saved Claire from Sylar, Peter would always be important to her; she would still love him because Peter was amazing and he came to save her _first_. His eyes darted away from her gaze awkwardly, and then he sighed. "I don't know," he said. "We can only hope he doesn't come in contact with an ability that is so powerful he's unable to control it."

"But how can we know? Peter could be anywhere." She looked down at her lap mournfully and played with her sleeves. Quietly she replied, "I tried looking for him at Simone's house, and he wasn't there. And then..." Isaac watched regret and shame in her expression, and she appeared like she was feeling guilty for getting attacked by Sylar.

He grabbed her shoulders and replied, "Hey, hey, it's alright now, Claire. It's over and we're all safe." Isaac paused and then smiled at her. "_You're _safe, and it's all because you're braver than all of us."

Tears painted her face, and she choked back a sob. She laughed nervously, trying to mask the pain. "No way," she chuckled. She tapped him on the nose playfully. "I really think Bat Boy deserves all the credit on that one."

Isaac laughed, leaning his head against her forehead and then taking her hand in his, caressing her delicate fingers. He responded in a low, smooth voice, "Well, I couldn't have done it without my trusty sidekick, Window Girl."

Claire sniffled but laughed uncontrollably, wiping her tears away and shining with mirth. He heard her yell out "Window Girl" and then giggle some more, and when she began leaning back into the sofa, he pulled her up, close to his face. Her laughter died down when he met her eyes with a serious expression. He felt her breath on his face, and her eyes watched with adoration and wonder.

"Claire, I'm sorry..." Isaac finally said. "I should have never kept that from you about your dad. I should have never put you in that kind of danger." He leaned into her again, his soft hair brushing against her forehead. "I'm so sorry," he repeated, and soon he felt her fingers slip through his hair soothingly. He bent his head up and made her a solemn promise. "I'll never lie or keep anything from you ever again."

"I know." She smiled at him, trust filling her green eyes. "But it doesn't matter, Isaac. You saved me, and that's all that counts." She paused, reveling in the relief on his face. She looks at him sadly. "I'm just sorry about Simone. She got in Sylar's way, and I wish we could have saved her."

Surprisingly, Claire noticed that Isaac had smiled at her instead of appearing sad at mention of Simone's name. She knew that he was still mourning her and that Simone would always be important to Isaac. However, she wondered if the way Isaac treated her was a sign she was important to him as well.

Isaac squeezed her hand, and she looked up at him as he touched her. His voice was just above a whisper when he said, "I'm glad you're safe. I don't want to lose anyone else important in my life, and I'll make sure of that."

His smooth, low voice made her shiver, and she felt warmth form in her belly as his words filtered into her ears. She inhaled deeply, feeling trapped in a euphoric moment of time while Isaac sat close to her. When he tried to release her hand, she pulled him back. Impulsively, she smashed her lips against his. She felt him freeze to her touch, and slowly he began kissing her back. She moved her tongue eagerly past his lips, delighting in his taste.

'Oh, he feels so good,' Claire immediately thought, and she pushed her body against him with urgency. She felt his hands pull at her shoulders bringing her closer against his chest. Automatically, she felt her body move on instinct, climbing into his lap and circling her arms around his neck. His teeth nibbled lightly at her lip, tugging on it before plunging his tongue deep into her hot mouth again, fiercer and hungrier than before. She moaned low, muffled by his frenetic lips, and she moved her fingers through his hair, pulling his face toward her, taking his tongue in deep. He grunted, the sound vibrating against her teeth as she began to grind against him, rubbing against his hardness. Quickly he moved his hands, squeezing her thighs hard as she bucked against him.

"Isaac..." she whispered so low, it felt like a hot summer wind against his face. She moaned again, and he almost lost himself. His arms began to shake, and he started to buckle under the excitement. He wanted nothing more than to pick her up and throw her down over his sofa to love and fuck her, mindlessly and artfully so.

"Claire," he muttered, his face rubbing against her hardening nipple over her light clothes. "Claire... we should stop."

"Ungh..." she moaned in protest, shaking her head and bucking her pelvis against him. "No, please..."

She was begging now, and Isaac was so close to relenting. But this wasn't right, and she was too young, and it was all just too fast. He could count on his hands the days she had worked here. It didn't matter that he had painted her in a prophetic dream, that he had saved her not once but twice from Sylar's clutches - he couldn't take her. Not now. He might have loved her, but he thought it was perverse. He didn't want to take advantage of her, no matter how much she wanted it.

"I can't, I can't," Isaac said, freeing himself from her heated touch. He pushed her aside roughly, and he jumped up from the couch. Claire looked at him in surprise, her face still flushed and her chest heaving from the excitement. She looked rejected, realizing that she had just thrown herself at him and Isaac had refused her.

Isaac couldn't handle the pain that came along with that look, so he had to set things straight. "But I want to... I can't but I want to." He rubbed his head and ran his fingers roughly through his hair. He gave Claire a desperate look. "God I want to... so bad."

"Then why can't you?" Claire challenged, her voice edgier than usual.

Despite her anger, Isaac gave her a wry smile. "Because I could get into a lot of trouble..." He came back over to Claire and took her hand. "You're sixteen, right?" When she nodded, he felt like laughing. "Age of consent is 17 here in New York. So unless you want me to go to jail..."

"No," Claire said quickly. She rubbed her eyes and sighed loudly. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"Yeah." Isaac looked down at her delicate fingers and started playing with them, entwining his calloused digits with hers. "It's okay, uh..." He stuttered awkwardly and bluntly asked, "So when do you turn seventeen?"

Claire laughed instantly, and she bent in and gave him a quick kiss. "You'll have to wait until next August."

Isaac grinned and then rolled his eyes, falling back into the sofa in defeat but still clutching her hands. "I guess so." He was silent for a moment, taking time to stare and burn her image into his mind. He said softly, "I can wait... I'd wait however I need to just to be with you, Claire."

She lifted his hands to her lips and kissed them, and then she rose from the couch. "I think I should go to bed then." She looked around the studio confused, wondering where he intended her to sleep.

"Take my bed. I'll stay out here tonight."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah," Isaac replied breathlessly, and then he gave her a cheeky grin. "I need to go up top for a bit anyway... to cool off."

Claire shot him a seductive look, nodding as she sauntered off to his room. "Good night, Isaac," she purred, and he watched her disappear behind the door of his bedroom, his excitement still prevalent in his pants.

"Damn..." he said under his breath, and he made his way up the fire escape to the top of the building so he could have some time to think. It was obvious he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight, not after making out with Claire and certainly not after knowing she'd be sleeping (and writhing) in his bed tonight - without him. "Damn," he repeated, wallowing in pity. "I have to wait almost a year..."

Thinking of Claire's lips against him, her body thrusting against his - he knew that waiting that long would definitely be worth it.

--

As soon as he had stepped one foot onto the roof top, he was immediately slammed against the fence that walled the building's antenna.

"Hey!" Isaac protested, and then Peter Petrelli materialized in front of him.

"You bastard, how dare you touch her like that!" Peter screamed at him, gripping his collar with one hand and pulling his fist back for a punch.

"Get off! I'm not going to hurt her!" Isaac shoved Peter away and caught his breath back. He sneered at Peter, who glared at him ready to attack again. "It's none of your business anyway, Peter."

Peter jabbed a finger warningly at him. "If you dare touch her against her will..."

"Shut up!" Isaac threw his hands up in exasperation and snorted. "Don't you get it? I'm important to Claire now, and she's important to me." He paused, and he eyed him sternly. "We have something, and I'm not going to give it up just because you can't have it."

Peter hadn't been too fond of that statement, so he lunged at Isaac and slammed him back into the fence again. Isaac winced from the sting of metal wire jabbing into his back. Isaac could tell Peter wanted to say something to him - deny that he had any feelings for Claire beyond being her uncle, but he didn't deny anything. He shoved his hands in his pockets and gave Isaac one last warning look. "I'll be watching you. You think you can take care of her - _protect_ her? Fine. But the moment you hurt her, I'll know about it, and I'll be here." He glared at Isaac and said bitingly, "I'll be here to give you just what you deserve."

Peter began to walk away, and before he could fade out, Isaac said one last thing, "That's never going to happen, Peter. I'll make Claire happy; more than you ever could." When Peter vanished, Isaac looked around and yelled loudly to the wind. "I'm her hero now!"

Beyond anyone's visibility, Peter watched Isaac from the distance. A large hand clamped onto his shoulder and pulled him aside. In an English drawl, his companion beckoned him away to continue his training. In one last glance, Peter watched Isaac go back inside the building.

He knew that where Claire's protection was concerned it was time to pass the torch to Isaac. Peter hoped that Isaac could prove himself capable of honoring and protecting his precious Claire.

To Be Continued...


	11. Chapter 11

AN: This is an AU from the episode "Distractions". Isaac stays alive in my story!

Girl in the Painting  
  
Chapter Eleven

Isaac bent down and trailed soft kisses down the nape of Claire's neck as she helped him on his latest comic. She giggled heartily at his touch, dropping the eraser and turning around to meet his mouth with an eager kiss.

"Mmm..." she moaned, pulling away from him and caressing a finger down his arm. He stared at her so intensely it gave her shivers. The way Isaac looked at her made her feel like he was ready to put her on private display and admire her forever. Though, in his eyes, she could see he was troubled, no doubt from her upcoming trip.

He took her hand into his and leaned his forehead against hers. "So you're off to Paris tomorrow." Claire made a noise of affirmation and then entwined her fingers with his. "I'll miss you."

"I know; I'll miss you too. Are you coming to the airport tomorrow?" When he didn't answer right away, Claire tacked on, "Even if Peter's going to be there?"

She saw Isaac grimace as he looked at her sheepishly. "You know I wouldn't miss it. Hopefully you're valiant uncle won't put me in a stretcher before I can say goodbye."

Claire wrapped her arms gently around him and nudged his nose with hers. "Now you know I wouldn't let that happen. Remember the last time you two fought over me?"

Isaac chuckled nervously, knowing she was joking and feeling slightly nauseous that she'd gone to the extreme to hurt herself to stop their petty fight. He didn't want to even 'think' about her other implication with that statement. Seeing his attention diverted, Claire cocked her head to the right and smiled flirtatiously at him. She leaned in for a light kiss, and when their lips touched, his excitement flared, and he pushed her against his kitchen counter, hugging her in a tight embrace.

"Mmm..." he moaned, releasing her lips and then rubbing her sides with his strong hands. Claire's face flushed, and she rocked against him appearing to want more.

"You know, the age of consent in France is 15..." Claire remarked in between kisses on his jaw.

Isaac raised an eyebrow and looked at her mischievously. "Oh... some one's been doing her homework." Claire's face turned a brighter red causing Isaac to chuckle again. She ran her fingers through his hair, and he felt his skin tingle.

Finally he sighed with a smile and said, "God, Claire, you know that the consent thing isn't the only thing holding me back..."

She nodded against him, kissing his jaw again. He exhaled heavily against her. "Not counting that your uncle would probably kill me for taking you right now..." Claire became embarrassed, and Isaac continued, "But I wanted to take things slow, for your sake."

"It's all been so surreal," he confessed. "I never imagined I'd ever find someone like you. I thought once Simone left me for Peter, I had nothing. And then Bennet came and only wanted to use me for my talents, I seriously started to question my existence. I even started to think I wasn't good enough to be a hero like Peter."

"Hey, don't say that," Claire said, pulling back from him to give him a fierce look.

"Oh, I don't think that anymore." His arms wrapped tighter around her, and instinctively she wrapped her legs around him, bucking into him. He moaned against her and said, "If it wasn't for you, I would let Sylar come right through that door and kill me. You give me a reason to hope for a brighter destiny, Claire."

He paused, locking gazes with her. She took in the features of his face, and her smile turned soft and full of awe. "Isaac..." she murmured. And suddenly, he was picking her up and carrying in his arms.

"You have to leave in a few hours right?" he asked, knowing she'd have to go home soon and pack. Claire nodded to his question, yet she was unsure what he meant by carrying her like this. Isaac felt her body tense against him, and he looked at her reassuringly. "Don't worry. It's not what you think."

Claire replied hesitantly, "You mean we're not going to...?"

Isaac shook his head right away and smiled. "No." His eyes shined at her. "I just want to hold you until you go away."

Claire was touched, and she leaned close to hug him tighter. She rested her head under the crook of his jaw, and she relished in his scent filling up her nose. When he set her on the bed, she immediately turned to him, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him. He ran his fingers through her hair, and settled a hand on the small of her back as she squirmed against him.

It took everything in his power to control himself, so for Claire's sake; he tried to behave by being chaste. With her body moving against his, physically begging for more, he stilled himself just to hold her tighter. Her soft breathing muted his urges, and as the time for her to leave drew nearer, he relished every minute that she was in his arms.

--

The next morning, Isaac woke up early, missing the feeling of Claire next to him already. She had stayed for a little while in his arms in the afternoon yesterday, and they both had been reluctant to let go of each other so she could go home and pack.

He rose out of his bed, wiping the sleep from his eyes and adjusting his vision. Sunlight filtered through the windows of his studio, warming the air. He looked around and couldn't help smile at the state of his studio, clean and tidy and ringing of Claire's presence. He opened the refrigerator to find left over bean soup that Claire made for him to 'get him by' so he wouldn't starve while she was gone. He opened the container and scooped out a cold bite, and made a noise of pleasure as the spices surged on his taste buds - and all he could visualize was Claire stirring the soup in the pot, smiling at him and warning him to not steal a taste before it was done.

"Claire..." he said aloud, and he felt almost silly that he was acting like such a love-sick puppy by mere memory of her. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so enamored and in love with someone.

He put the soup back in the fridge and sauntered over to the paintings that filled his loft. He knew that as the day started, he'd have to get back to work and help with clues to the future - mainly pertaining to Peter and Sylar. And although he knew these things were important, all he could do was think about Claire in Paris without him.

"Damn..." he said under his breath, and his eyes fell upon the painting of him with his head sliced open as it hid behind another stack of paintings before him. He had hidden it from Claire's view, and he felt guilty for not telling her about it. Pulling it out, he looked over the painting and frowned. Was this truly his destiny?

In another world, he might have set all the paintings of his death out, playing the waiting game as he executioner waltzed through the door. If all he had was himself and his gift, he'd probably let Sylar kill him.

But that wasn't the case any longer. Isaac had Claire, and she was like a new discovery - a gilded fork in his path that beckoned him to explore. Would he give up and offer himself to Sylar without another thought for his own life? Did he really have to lie down and meet the cold stare of destiny?

Suddenly, Isaac kicked his foot through the painting, and he decided to refuse it all. He'd refuse to offer himself up for Sylar. He had fought him so hard already, and with Claire waiting for him in Paris, he didn't want to give up and let her live on without him.

For once, he wanted to be selfish.

Flinging the ruined painting aside, Isaac prepared a fresh white canvass and brought out his media. He paused, letting the power take over his senses as he picked up the brush, ready to glide it across the surface. He felt a cold rush, and his core felt hollow, and suddenly he felt it completely consume him - brush dancing over canvass as the future came alive.

Isaac couldn't guess how long he'd been under the influence of his prophetic skills, but when he came to the sun was setting and casting a soft orange light into his studio, creating many looming shadows. He blinked several times, and when his gaze fell on his freshly painted prophecies, he sighed in relief.

Smiling earnestly, Isaac leaned back and ran his fingers through his hair. Now he knew just what he had to do.

--

Peter had scowled at Isaac most of the time while Claire said goodbye at the airport. He had watched Isaac and Claire hold hands and exchange suggestive glances, and Nathan even had to hold him back when Claire leaned into Isaac and gave him one last fiery kiss before departing. When Claire had hugged Peter and Nathan goodbye, Isaac gave Peter a bemused stare, not at all concerned anymore that Peter was so close to Claire.

Nathan had ducked out quickly before Claire left, not willing to stick around to talk to Meredith or show his face in public around Claire much longer. Claire was grateful, at least, that he had shown up at all, and it was showing he was having some gumption on how to be a better father to her. Noah Bennet and his associate were there too, and Claire was relieved and grateful things with her adopted father - her real father - were back to normal again. She'd even heard her dad talking to Meredith about taking Claire back once they came back from Paris after Nathan's election. Meredith had warmed to the idea, saying she'd like to visit Mexico again but would be more comfortable if she were on her own. Claire, honestly, was fine with that decision, and she looked forward to seeing her brother and mother again soon.

She and Isaac would just have to work out their relationship later if she ended up moving back to Texas. Isaac wasn't worried, and he reassured her they'd cross that bridge when they got there.

"I'll miss you," she said, giving him one last hug. Isaac held her, his eyes sparkling with confidence as he felt Peter's eyes continue to watch them from behind.

"You already said that," Isaac said, chuckling and leaning his forehead against hers. "Several times, actually."

Claire giggled lightly, and she traced a finger down his cheek. "Well, I mean it."

Isaac cupped her face in his hands and said, "I know, but don't worry. We'll see each other again sooner than you think."

Claire smiled heartily. "I doubt it. This week is going to seem like an eternity without you." She gave him a grim stare. "Be careful, Isaac." Her eyes darted to Peter and back to Isaac. "You know what I mean."

He kissed her temple as she began to draw away. The last call for boarding her plan rang over the loudspeaker. When her fingers fell out of his, she gave him a backward glance and smiled. "Take care." And she walked slowly down the walkway to her plane.

As she walked away, Isaac continued to stand there to watch her, and he realized that Peter wasn't budging either. Isaac turned around, and he gave Peter a smarmy smirk before heading toward the airport bar.

"You know, I'm not sure if you're good enough for her yet," Peter had said to him before he was out of ear shot.

Isaac stopped, was silent for a moment and then he responded. "Well, that isn't for you to decide, is it?" Isaac gave him a warning look. "Move on, Peter. Do us all a favor and move on. There are other things in your life you should be worrying about."

Peter crossed his arms, miffed that Isaac would dare chide him. "Such as?" 

"Such as trying to find a way not to destroy millions of people," Isaac replied to him. He saw Peter frown, knowing that he was right. Isaac walked away, and this time, Peter said nothing. Isaac glanced backward, and Peter was gone. He hoped the man had sense to leave it at that and finish whatever training was going to subvert this disaster.

For Isaac, it didn't concern him so much anymore. He patted the airline ticket in his back jean pocket and smiled before sitting down and ordering a drink. In a couple of hours, he'd be boarding his flight too - following Claire across the Atlantic to the most romantic city on earth.

And with that, he'd snub Destiny this time so he could be with Claire.

--

His body was still sore, and he continued to curse the cheerleader and her friends who had done this to him. For days now, he had a difficult time walking, but he was grateful for his vitality - attributing his fast recovery from a high agility ability he'd stolen not too long ago.

As soon as Sylar was mobile and well enough to stand, he knew that vengeance was in order, and he'd come after the easiest one to take. The painter had a useful skill that he'd been meaning to acquire, and he'd assume the painter who predicted the future knew it was inevitable he'd come for him anyway.

He arrived at Isaac's studio, expecting him to be there painting away. Instead, he found himself in a lifeless, empty atmosphere with no sign of anyone. Although this angered Sylar, he resolved himself into waiting for Isaac's return, assured that the painter had just stepped out for an errand or a quick walk. To occupy himself, Sylar began walking around the studio, studying Isaac's prophetic paintings.

When he came to a set of certain paintings, he frowned, and he knew the painted would not come back so soon. He looked down at his feet to a discarded canvass, obviously ruined by an object that had punched through it. On the painting, Isaac was depicted just the way he was supposed to be, sliced up and ready for Sylar's taking. However, it appeared by his empty loft that the painter had run away. By the other paintings, it seemed wherever the cheerleader was hiding, the painter had run away with her.

In those paintings Sylar couldn't tell where they were hiding. The foreground of the paintings was full of their own portraits, depicting them in a loving embrace. The only background Sylar could see was a sunlit garden, with tree branches framing them from the back.

They could be anywhere - any heavenly retreat, for all Sylar knew they were in sunny California or even Florida. They could even be in a different country.

Sylar grunted, pacing around the studio with his anger beginning to flare. His powers surged through his anger, and many of Isaac's paintings began flinging around, crashing into things. Soon, Sylar had created a whirlwind of psycho kinetic power that caused destruction throughout the entire studio.

Sylar soon made his way to the door, not willing to waste anymore time here. Isaac and the cheerleader might be gone, but he'd come for them eventually.

After all, they couldn't hide forever.

--

Claire sat on her large hotel bed and stared at the ceiling. She'd been debating with herself for awhile on where in Paris she should go next. She hated the idea of going alone, and Meredith had already disappeared that first hour they'd settled into their hotel. Her mother had told her that she was looking up an old friend, and she gave Claire permission to do what she wanted at the hotel, mentioning the pool and other activities Claire could engage in.

However, Claire thought Paris was too spectacular of a city to stay cooped up in some hotel. It was also a very romantic city, and a lot of things were best done with a companion. She frowned, and she wished that Isaac was here.

And the more she thought of him, the more time she took up staring at the ceiling and daydreaming about him.

Her silent daydreaming was soon interrupted by a loud annoying ring from the room phone, and she looked at the ID number curiously before picking it up. It was the lobby calling, and she hoped that Meredith hadn't forgotten her key.

"Yes?" Claire answered, and she heard the thickly-accented receptionist sternly address her on the other line.

"Mademoiselle Bennet, you 'av a guest in zee lobby who iz expecting you."

"Oh, really? Is it my mom? Is it a blond woman?"

"No, it iz ah man. Are you expecting?"

Claire paused, and her blood ran cold. She really wasn't expecting anyone, and she had no idea who it could be. Was there a possibility that it was Sylar? Did he follow her here to Paris? She bit her lip.

"Uh... well," she said nervously. "That depends on the man." She heard the receptionist snort in the other line. "Could you describe him for me?"

"'E iz medium height, curly 'air, and speaks beautiful French for an American. 'E alzo smells like ... ah... 'ow do you say... oil paint?"

Claire gasped. She almost forgot to speak in the phone before dashing off. "Thank you! I'll be right down."

She threw the phone down onto its receiver and grabbed her key. She dashed down the hallway, and she couldn't even wait for the elevator, so she made her way to the stairs. Claire was thankful they were only on the fourth floor, and she began running excitedly down to the lobby.

When she came down, she stopped, looking around frantically for any sign of Isaac. She heard movement behind her and turned slowly around.

"Hey," he said, grinning at her. She looked at him with wide eyes, and she felt she was dreaming. He was leaning against the hotel window as sunlight shined around him.

"Isaac... you came..." she whispered, and elation filled her voice. She spun around, and he caught her as she jumped into his arms.

He released her enough so he could look into her face. He said, "I had to, Claire. I couldn't just stay there without you. It might have been my destiny to paint, but I..."

Isaac kissed her quickly and rested his head against hers. "I don't care so much about destiny anymore, not if it doesn't involve you."

She fell back from his embrace and took his hand in hers. She smiled and drew him toward the door. "Destiny isn't set in stone, Isaac. It is what you make of it." She paused, and he squeezed her hand. "I'm glad you came."

"Me too."

"So!" she said in a chipper voice, excited now that he was here. With Meredith gone wherever and Isaac here, she knew that she could finally enjoy this Parisian sabbatical. Her eyes gleamed with felicity and she asked him, "So how long are you here?"

"As long as you're here," Isaac replied, a seductive sparkle in his eyes.

Claire laughed and pulled him along. They exited the hotel and looked at the bustle of the Paris streets before finding each other's gazes again. They were together, alone in a city full of love, art and fantasy. Isaac pulled her closer, and Claire leaned into him, a perfect fit against his body.

Claire looked up at him, gazing at him with flirtatious eyes and swaying her hips into him suggestively. "So, now that you're here, what do you want to do first?" 


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: WARNING for underage adult themes in this chapter. The rating of the story has been changed to 'M' for a reason. Thanks!**

* * *

Girl in the Painting

Epilogue

As Isaac drove his friend's scooter down the tight Parisian alleys, Claire snuggled to him tightly and tuned out the rest of the world. As she leaned against him, the trip to his friend's house put her in a daze, and soon they were there before she knew it.

"We're here," Isaac said, setting down the kickstand and taking off his helmet. Claire pulled off her helmet too, and she took Isaac's hand as he helped her off the bike.

Claire felt a hitch in her breath as she looked up at the magnificent condo in front of them, surrounded by a stone gate. Claire caught Isaac watching her as she stared at the place in awe, and he smiled at her reaction, squeezing her hand and drawing her forward.

"Come on. Let's go inside." And she trailed behind him a little, darting her head around and taking in the full view.

"Wow, your friend must be rich," Claire stated. Isaac nodded ahead of her.

"Louis and I were buddies in school. I was in the study abroad program at Syracuse, and came to Paris for a couple watercolor courses. Louis and I were shacked up in the same dorm on campus. He was a poor boy then, but he's an amazing web designer. Now he's got companies fighting over him. He freelances here at home, but this month he's in Cologne with his girlfriend. I called him up, and coincidentally, he told me his place was free."

Claire shot him a sly look and smirked. "Talk about friends in high places. This place is something out of a fairytale."

Isaac couldn't help his wide grin. "Wait until you see the kitchen. I'm cooking for you tonight."

Claire's eyes widened, and she squealed in elation. "Really? Oh, I can't wait."

Isaac pulled her into his chest and kissed her nose. "I only hope I can impress you. I have to make up for all the cooking you've done for me."

Claire wrapped her arms around him and kissed his chin. "I'm sure you'll do fine. But do you know the one thing I'm excited for?"

"What's that?" he asked in a whisper. The smooth way his voice filtered in her ears made her body shiver. She moved her hips lightly into his and licked her lips.

She answered him breathlessly, "I'm excited for dessert."

Isaac paused, laughing nervously as he turned to unlock the gate door to his friend's condo. He looked down at Claire as she hung onto him and said, "We'll just see about dessert."

Claire hoped he was teasing.

--

"Ugh!" Claire moaned as she plopped gently down on the pristine white velour couch. She lopped off her sandals and lifted her feet to rub them. "They were right when they said you can't see the Louvre in one day. We barely got through the first wing."

Isaac had sauntered into the kitchen, but he could still hear her through and open area in the wall. "Well, we would have gotten through much faster if someone hadn't insisted on so many breaks."

"Hey, now, I've always wanted to kiss someone in front of the _Venus de Milo_. I don't know why…must be that whole goddess of love thing."

"Well, as I recall, you had kissed me plenty of times in front of other masterpieces."

Claire turned around and rested her elbows on the arm of the couch. She gave him puppy eyes and replied, "It's only because I couldn't resist you."

Isaac stopped, blushing as he closed a cupboard door to meet her gaze. "Stop that, you, or I'll never get dinner made."

"We could always skip to dessert," Claire suggested in forwardness.

Isaac chuckled and pointed a chiding finger at her. "You know you shouldn't skip any meals, Claire."

Claire gave him an inviting look and cocked her head at him. "I'll have to remember that… for later." Isaac smirked and turned around to look for some pots in the cupboard. Claire watched him, anxious to help.

"Is there something I can do?"

Isaac shook his head but did not meet her gaze. "No, I've got this. Besides, this is your night. Why don't you relax until then?"

"Okay," Claire said, and she reached into her back pack and looked over her daily purchases. Her hands fell on something silky, and her mouth dropped when she realized she'd forgotten something.

"Hey, where's the shower in this place? I could use one to relax," Claire asked. Isaac came out of the kitchen and looked around the house. Clearly, he hadn't been here in awhile.

"Um, I think it's down that hallway. That one might be Adele's, uh … Louis's girlfriend, so you could probably use that one."

"Thanks," she said, turning around and taking off to the bathroom.

--

After her shower, Claire lifted a bag out from her backpack and pulled out the dress she had purchased. She had actually bought this with Meredith the night before, and she wanted to surprise Isaac by wearing it for him.

Isaac had never seen her in her cheer-leading outfit, not counting the prophetic paintings of her. So when she found a long silk dress with the same shade of red, she tried it on. Seeing herself in it had taken her breath away, so she could only imagine what Isaac would think of it. She had been excited the entire day they were at the Louvre, knowing that Isaac was taking them to his friend's house. Meredith had left a note in the morning that she'd be gone for the day and night, so Claire felt it was okay that she spent her time with Isaac. Meredith knew Isaac was there, and she actually expressed her relief that the man who saved Claire's life was in Paris spending time with her.

As Claire's thoughts wandered, she looked around Adele's bathroom to all her makeup, toiletries and ornate perfume bottles. The bathroom was huge, fitting in two of Claire's bedrooms from Odessa and equipped with the largest mirrors she'd ever seen. She picked up the hairdryer, the only thing black in the whole white washed bathroom, and Claire dried her hair before putting her dress on. She examined her youthful body in the mirror, embarrassing herself when she began thinking too much on what Isaac would think of her.

She only hoped that if he did see her tonight that he didn't think she had the body of some young kid.

She wanted to impress him, be good to him, and she certainly didn't want to act like some awkward, inexperienced virgin.

After she dried her hair, there was a light knock on the bathroom door. "Claire, dinner should be ready when you come out."

She unconsciously wrapped her arms around her chest and replied nervously, "Alright… alright, Isaac. Almost done."

And she rolled her eyes, feeling like a dork that she acted that nervous when he'd just knocked on the door.

She took her time with her make up, and when it came time for adding that extra scent, she hoped that this strange woman named Adele wouldn't mind if she had just one little shot of her exotic perfumes. Claire sniffed each one of the bottles, and when she spotted a leaf shaped bottle with green liquid, she smiled at the pleasant scent and sprayed just a little bit around her.

Carefully, Claire put the dress over her head and smoothed it over her body. It fit snuggly, accentuating her curves and giving support to her developing front. She fluffed the material in front of her chest, thankful that the design of the dress gave her bosom a little more shape. She feathered her hair over her shoulders.

When she felt she was ready, she took a step onto the cold marble floor and realized she didn't pack shoes. A cold feeling washed over her body, and she slightly paled. She felt so stupid! After taking a deep breath, Claire knew there wasn't anything she could do about it now, so she hoped Isaac wouldn't mind her bare feet.

As she stepped out into the hallway, the lights had already dimmed and the late afternoon sun barely shed any light through the house. Candlelight flickered ahead, and as she neared the dining room, her eyes fell on the table set up with the meal and Isaac waiting for her.

She almost jumped as Isaac's chair made a loud noise against the floor as he got up to greet her. She felt his eyes over her body, and she took a deep breath, hoping he liked what he saw.

"Claire… you are…" Isaac stuttered. He smiled, and he took her hand as she came into the light. "You look beautiful."

Claire giggled nervously, fighting back a strange tear that had shown up on the corner of her eye. "I forgot my shoes," was all she could say, and Isaac paused and began chuckling. He wiped her tear away and brought her closer to his chest.

He whispered lightly against her, "You don't need shoes here." He kissed the top of her head and reluctantly released her so she could take a seat opposite him for dinner.

--

"It's so beautiful here. Two months ago, I would have never dreamed of being here," Claire said. She was leaning into Isaac's body as he held her on the couch on the back patio. They looked up into the stars together, seeing a wholly new sky in the Parisian night.

"Hrmm…" Isaac answered her. "Neither did I. If someone would have asked me then where I'd be, I would have only saw drugs and paintings in my future." He moved to trace a finger down her face. "I would have never had imagined myself with someone like you."

Claire closed her eyes as she felt his soft touch. "Oh? And what does that mean exactly?" she teased him.

"It means that the future was better than my imagination." Isaac bent down and kissed her lips lightly. When he didn't draw back, Claire moved into him, lightly pushing her tongue past his lips. He pulled her close as she kissed him, and slowly she moved into his lap. He wrapped his arms around her hips, and she cupped his face with her hands.

His tongue was eager, lapping up her taste, teasing her tongue and brushing against her teeth. She sighed in his mouth, trailing her fingers from his jaw through his soft brown hair. He released her mouth, nibbling on her lips before trailing kisses down her neck. He sucked on the delicate flesh of her nape, and she bent her head back to give him better access. She moaned as he sucked hard, leaving a mark that she wished her powers would let her keep.

She squirmed excitedly against him, and she hiked up her red dress over her thighs so she could straddle him. She moved, thrusting her pelvis against him as he continued to kiss her. She moaned as he moved a hand inside her dress, caressing the ticklish flesh of the small of her back.

"Isaac…" she moaned, breathing heavily against him. He trailed kisses back up to her lips and stopped, looking at her possessively.

"Claire… I…" He leaned his forehead against hers, and he tightened his arms around her body. "I want to do this," he whispered. "But do you… do you want to do this here, in Paris?" He took her face in his hands and looked at her seriously. "Are you ready?"

She moved her hands over Isaac's and smiled. "I've been ready since you saved me, Isaac." She bent in and kissed him eagerly, and he drew her into a close embrace, his hands fumbling with the zipper of her dress. Lightly, as the material opened, he slid her straps down her arms and pushed the dress down her torso. They both shifted their bodies, and soon her clothes had pooled to the ground. Isaac inhaled roughly, licking his lips as he stared at her nude form before him. As an artist, he'd seen many lovely nude bodies, but when it was someone an artist loved, it was a different feeling – a feeling a love, lust, and spiritual belonging.

Claire nervously drew her arms over her chest, anxious that he'd fallen into silence. She looked at him hesitantly, "Am I…?"

Isaac shook his head and drew her nearer. "You're amazing." Suddenly, Claire felt him quickly dispel his own clothes, and she watched him intently. Her eyes lingered over his lightly tanned body, focusing on his lean muscles and the hair growing on his chest. She flushed, not used to being with a man with so much body hair. It was truly a sign of Isaac's maturity, and it was more alluring than ever.

Claire's eyes fell down below his navel, and she almost stepped back at the sight of him. She really had no one to compare him too, but seeing his naked excitement at all was a new experience for her.

"Um…" she bit her lip and paused. Isaac walked over to her, and she didn't hear him laugh at her anxiety. Instead, he drew her into his body again, an air of understanding surging through his touch alone.

"Are you sure… you want this?" His voice sounded like a breeze in her ear.

Claire took a deep breath. She looked around her surroundings, and as the stars of the Paris skies shined down on her, she felt at peace. Her family was still hundreds of miles away, and the only life she'd ever known was waiting for her back in another country.

But for now – here – she was with Isaac, the one man that loved her like she loved him; the man that had changed her destiny from the starting point, and through knowing only her, he was able to change his own fate.

And somewhere in a rush of time, she learned about the man that painted her death and caused her to be saved. She learned about him, bearing a love that was strange and right and real. And by loving Isaac, she was able to save him from his fate and give him a reason to live.

She began to cry, and she couldn't stop. When Isaac wiped her tears away, she laughed against him and drew him closer. She nodded and said, "I'm sure. I want this, Isaac."

She cupped his face and looked into him deeply. "I trust you, Isaac."

Isaac smiled and embraced her. He closed his eyes and said breathlessly, "No woman has ever said that to me before… and meant it."

"I'm not just some woman," Claire replied teasingly.

Isaac released her from his embrace and held her hand, leading her back to the patio couch. He smiled as he looked up at her. "No, you're not. You're Claire, and I love you."

Her body fell over him, and she straddled his lap. She moved into him, kissing him fiercely and rubbing against his excitement. She could tell that Isaac was taking it slow, treating her like a lover and not some quick fix.

Claire moaned as he ran his fingers through her hair, lightly tracing his fingers over her back as she bucked into him. She moaned as his mouth dipped to her breasts, and her body shivered as his tongue tasted her skin, wrapping around her erect nipples. She squirmed in his lap, feeling her own wetness rub against his inner thigh.

Slowly he moved her on top of him, letting her adjust to him slowly and at her own pace. She'd assume he knew this was her first time, and he was trying to be gentle with her – not because he knew she couldn't be physically hurt, but rather he wanted her to be in control.

"Thank you, Isaac," she said against him, wrapping her arms around his neck as he continued to kiss her breasts. "I love you," she said, and she drew him completely in. She screamed as the pinch hit her fast, and she moved her hips with Isaac's guiding hands in a slow rhythm, slowly dulling the pain to pleasure.

--

As Claire cried and moaned against him, Isaac thanked whatever God was listening for his life. Something inside him told him that he'd be dead if it wasn't for Claire; he'd be dead and the only meaning in his life would be his paintings – for what they brought to the future for others. He knew once he boarded that plane to go after Claire he'd been selfish, and even if it had been the most selfish thing he'd ever done, he knew it was worth it.

The day Claire had burst into his life; he began to see meaning in this world. Without Claire, he could have traded a brighter destiny for a gruesome death.

'Thank you, Claire,' Isaac thought. He groaned, and as Claire cried against him, he saw stars and let himself go within her. When he opened his eyes, he no longer saw her in Paris.

Instead, white blanketed his vision, and suddenly he saw his future. Before him was a bright smiling Claire, the one that would help him paint his Destiny all on his own.

The End

AN: Thank you to everyone who has supported this fic from day one. I really appreciate you taking this journey with me. Also, this isn't quite the end. I am planning a one-shot sequel explaining the exact time of Isaac's prophetic nude painting of Claire. The one-shot will have a higher mature rating and be located at my writing live journal, media miner, and AFF. I will post links to my user info when the story is complete. Thanks again!


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